


Amber moon

by Sinikettu



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Peter Quil - Fandom, rocket raccoon - Fandom
Genre: Also starring an army of OC's, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'll probably add tags as this trainwreck of a story progresses, Other Marvel characters as cameos, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 83,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3537350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinikettu/pseuds/Sinikettu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rocket Raccoon has been very successful in his life and settled in a comfortable position at Xarth-3 to spend his remaining years with his friend Groot, he has been a space pirate, a guerilla warrior, champion of the galaxy and the defender of the weak, and now celebrated Grand Admiral. But when he and his chosen home world are threatened by a new danger - a mysterious entity trying to kill him and his friends.</p>
<p>Rocket and his friends must manage to prevent another attack before it is too late but who will aid them at their darkest hour? Tips are a bit tight and time is short. Who or what is the next target, what if it is he himself? Its the time for Rocket to grab his old warhorses from coat rack, dust the bandoliers and show that he may be old but not weak and defend what's right and decent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Amber moon

[ ](http://s1065.photobucket.com/user/Sininen_kettu/media/10314521_748214991906652_6875149003194830853_n-rocket-raccoon-almost-looked-like-this-guardians-of-the-galaxy-concept-art-s_zpslghv9ojf.jpeg.html)

##  **Prologue**

## Amber moon

 

**Xarth cluster, Zyxx system- planet 6, Beta-4 quadrant**

**Orbit of Zyxx-6**

**Five years before present**

 

“Thank you colonel Ried’d, Grand admiral Rocket out.” Rocket sighed heavily closing the comms to the surface of Zyxx-6 below. Silence fell upon super carrier _Acquisition of illumination’s_ deserted war room. He had furiously ordered the staff out as soon as he had realized what the content of the news from the planet would be and was now sitting in a dimmed room befitting to his current mood. Capturing _the acquisition of illumination_ had been his finest hour. A daring hit and run raid against the Skrulls during the fifth major Kree-Skrull war. It was his flagship, his pride and joy which now did nothing to uplift his dark thoughts. He’d personally overseen the refurbish, refit and renaming of the former Skrull Dreadnought’s hull into newly conceived super carrier-class. Before this the other races had deemed Xarthians unable –even incapable of building and manning ships of this size but he’d proven them all wrong. Soon, perhaps in just two-three years they’d have their first clearly Xarth designed capital class ships –Naturally still based on Skrull tech for the most part, but you could only cut so many corners without racial hyper quantum technology –something in which Xarth had never been able to find any real headway despite their constant effort on the field; and even with the borrowed knowhow the refurbish alone had taken near six months.

_Drax, Astro, Gamora… Gone in a brilliant flash of light. Groot was now nothing but a sliver of wood, Peter and the rest were alive at least, if hurt… Great maker’s mercy he’d managed to keep their young and so far untested new team of next generation Guardians out of this fiasco._ Rocket had never felt so lonely in his life. He reminisced through the haze of tears how their final journey had begun, tears he didn’t even realize he had been holding back until they had become a torrent.

_About a decade ago he’d taken his first tentative steps to really get to know his own kind and fallen for her in a very rapid succession upon arriving to her lodging establishment at Procyon-6. It had felt like a fever dream… Their people –his people… the quiet wedding ceremony with Nidnene… The dance tune was pretty old but generic enough to be easy to dance in almost any form except Charleston maybe. They glided through the floor together him intoxicating from her lovely scent and staring at those dark liquid pools that were her eyes, caressing her exquisite soft grey tufted ears now and then… such happy twenty weeks._

His mind was wandering between moments but it didn’t matter, all he could taste was the bitter pill of defeat instead of sweet nectar of victory. What was the point of winning if it meant getting your friends killed?

_He was dancing again at his promotion party with his chosen mate Nidnene, he never danced with anyone but her anymore… She was so much like Rocket’s late Lylla had been in her movement; other races were too tall and ungainly after them. He’d finally taken the long detained trip to Procyon-6 again, the home planet of his people to fetch her so they could be together at Xarth… Then the news had come, interrupting the Ball sometime after midnight. Basinase of the golden waves, luxury planet between the edges of the Kree-Shiar space had been ravaged and hordes of V’saine fleets were sweeping through the southern sectors. It would be the beginning of the V’saine incursions. Of course nobody called them as that at the time. Not at first…But after years of constant raiding it was hard to call them anything else anymore. They’d all been there at the ball of course and had soon been rounded up and ready to rumble just like old times, after all it was his promotion to Grand admiralty they were celebrating. It had felt strangely pivotal moment and Mantis had said as much. The old Guardians joining with the new generation of Galactic Guardians to repel the V’saine threat united and rising up to fight the night once more…_ How could something so grand and worthwhile feel so empty now?Rocket, Grand admiral of Xarth. It had been such an honor to be recognized in such a way but at this moment it felt hollow provoking Rocket to mutter a phrase from some musty old Terran play to silent room. He’d heard Star-lord utter it more than once in exasperation in a situation like this. “Uneasy lays the head that wears the crown.” Truer words had never been spoken. It had been _his own_ plan that got them all killed! His one plan that had utterly failed... the one time it shouldn't have been even possible.

**Tänhauser nebula – Beta-5 quadrant**

**Five years before present**

**Six days after the battle of Zyxx-6**

Grand admiral Rocket followed the holographic view screen at the command deck of the _Acquisition of Illumination_ , biting his lower lip in worry without even noticing the few droplets of blood dripping onto his pearly white uniform front, creating bright crimson stains on otherwise immaculately clean jacket. The flagship lurched again slightly from being hit through the shields. The automated systems responded announcing; _hull status critical, cascading hull failure imminent through decks eighty-nine, eighty-seven, and eighty-six at section fifty-six, all personnel please respond._ Rocket forced himself to appear as if he’d have no care in the world though his crew was clearly readying to abandon deck. His stoic example somewhat calmed the deck atmosphere.

Commodore Roork risked a glance at his superior but said nothing focusing on his duties. “Send in the remaining Barges and re-position the Corvettes on attack vector thirty-six.” He ordered more steadily than he actually felt watching the screens for the progress of their last sortie of combat cloaked and ordinance filled forty-ton Barges to slowly lumber into position for detonation…

Rocket hedged they might actually win a tie here if they could just break the V’saine command. He’d been called mad by many in his staff when he announced the first two parts in his plan and now those same people were reading all of them like a bible… They had to; his vengeance to V’saine and the fate of Xarth depended on it. The V’saine were an impossibly effective hive mind race of bizarre biology and morphism even by Galactic standards but they could be distracted for a short time if the ‘control mind’ was severed, but in battle all you had and all you needed was moments anyway. He was brought back to attention when his earpiece crackled to life informing him that the V’saine flagship was increasing speed and breaking out of formation, its shields barely holding under the pounding it was receiving.

_“And ours is faring so much better? We’ve lost half the point weapons at the lower hull already.”_ Rocket chuffed to himself.

“ _Transversal vector alpha four-six-point nine to vector alpha four-six-point eight -to seven -to six-, spatial change to vector 018”_ Targeting computer announced mechanically.

Grand admiral Rocket frowned; the transversal vector was wrong, why would it attempt a sharp turn now when the rational course would have been-?

“Oh, FLARK ME! it’s going to ram us, all decks better prepare for impact!” And Rocket suddenly realized that he had accidentally screamed it out aloud into ship comms, but to his and the crews’ amazement instead of having the V’saine flagship make a direct accelerated nose dive into their broadside; the enemy also dived downwards sliding under the carrier’s hull. Both ships brushing uncomfortably close as the _acquisition of illumination_ banked hard to avoid collision, almost jolting everyone standing at the bridge from their feet.

“Helm! Get me enlarged visual on that.” Admiral ordered. He had a sudden lurch in his stomach that there was a ploy in this –an enemy ploy he hadn’t anticipated. He stared at the enlarged image on screen unsure of what he was seeing. He had half expected boarding parties lined up and ready in zero-G battle suits at the enemy ship’s outer decks but this didn’t look like it at all. Roork; a grey furred and bandit masked Raccoonoid like Rocket himself and the latter’s second in command, gave a nervous glance at his superior. He too had a sense that something was off.

“Commodore Roork, what the flark are you making out of those huge chutes on their mid and aft deck?” Rocket commented about the odd protrusions at the enemy ship. The enemy flagship was gliding almost right under them now and Rocket had already decided to order the ejection of their critical but so far contained secondary drive core, to be detonated right on the most likely path of their enemy.

“I don’t know, sir but they make me think of laser torches my nephew uses in jewelry making-” they were the last words Commodore Roork would ever say as the V’saine flagship opened fire and the reason for those protrusions became evident. A huge yellow conically narrowing beam conjoined from many smaller ones into one as wide as a large tree trunk at its farthest tip. It sprang upwards from the chutes striking straight through the ships shields, hull and everything else on its path all the way up to the command deck at the heart of the ship, obliterating Commodore Roork and half the deck crew on the spot. It then arched diagonally from left to right slicing through the rest of lower parts of the super carrier’s keel hull like a hot knife through butter leaving huge gaping trenches of molten metal and broken wires at its wake. The automated systems started to scream warnings like mad.

* * *

 

He felt dizzy from just rising up to his knees. His whole body was numb and though his eyes and face hurt and bled like hell, his ears still worked fine but luckily his nose didn’t or the stench from singed fur and burning flesh; acrid and irritating even with barely any sense of smell left; would have made him choke on his own vomit. The lack of scent felt as blessing, he already hurt like all nerves were on fire just from pulling a deep breath to make a few ragged sniffs which quickly turned to rasping cough. He heard screams and moans from the crew around him. Apparently the atmospheric containment field generators still worked since they hadn’t died in the instant from exposure to hard vacuum. He could barely crack open his blood clotted eyelids and ignore the pain and waves of dizziness to assess his situation. A new wave of sharp pain shot through his right arm when he tried to put weight on it but he still had feeling in all of his extremities, no spinal or neck injury then –good thing.

His palms hit something wet with a splash which was also good, it helped to increase touch sensitivity by wetting his fingertip vibrissae and he needed that since he could barely see from the tears, blood and sunspots in his eyes. He winched his eyes shut from the pain at his arm and body, groping carefully forward trying to drag himself to the command console which was supposedly almost right next to him. He spoke towards the mic he knew was supposedly right about there but the only sounds he could make were wet gurgles; oh fuck it felt like he was about to drown. He then sensed through crimson haze that something was hanging loosely by his cheek and his upper jaw clearly had a gap in it –not just a wound, like pieces were missing and... some dentition? It didn’t matter, he stood up shakily and removed the limp –probably dead officer out of his way from the chair to which he climbed up to stand on, staining the chair and touch screens with blood flowing and dripping freely from his ruined face and numerous cuts. He had to rise fully upright in order to be able to type what he needed and almost fainted and fell back on the floor when a wave of nausea hit him. He leaned forward taking a hold of the console with his uninjured arm as if it were a lifeline, gasping momentarily for breath while the world spun.

Rocket didn’t need to see the console, he knew by feel where the keys were, all he needed was to stay conscious to type- to give a simple white lie for status update and a few commands. _Yes, they were still operational and damage was under control._ He couldn’t see the responses on screen and the speaker system was down, it didn’t matter. _Do not follow, let them disengage. Regroup at gamma-six-delta ready for counter-wave-._ Someone was shaking him, his knees buckled and he slumped atop the console but even as he was being moved and raised to gurney he reached out and hit the send button. _Eject the core now!_ And then a heartbeat later the whole ship began to shake violently _._

**Thesopia cluster, Karnaka system- planet 4, moon 6, Alpha-6 quadrant – Marcellus mining colony A15.**

**Six months before present**

The Kree mining foreman looks curiously at the great mining machine some hundred yards away which had suddenly stopped drilling and was now slowly backing away. The automaton never stopped unless… there was something ahead, something which it detected as an obstacle it was not supposed to go through according to its fuzzy logic parameters such as another shaft or power lines and such. But there were no other shafts at least as far as the foreman knew nor lines or even minerals for that matter –the vibranium veins had been depleted centuries ago, but his enlisters had given him and the crew under his roll plenty of Kredits to dig through exactly here in this depleted mine at this Pama forsaken backwater ex-colony, ultimately abandoned during the Kree-Xandar conflict more than forty years ago. He scratched his chin in thought for a moment before ordering the crews to excavate with hand tools to see what had made the machine stop. his crew Soon informed that they had hit through some kind of bunker wall or door. “So this is what we were actually hired to find”. The foreman nods to himself in understanding before heading to rendezvous with the crew to see what kind of bunker it was. “Well boys, what’s it look like?” The foreman asked peering through the jagged-edged man-sized hole into darkness that lay at the other side, cut through the reinforced plastic steel used to reinforce the cavern walls beyond. Apparently they had drilled through a pair of massive bay doors disguised to look exactly like the mineshaft walls and rock-slides they had carved through.

“I dunno boss but it makes me think of those old missile silos we demolished at Tespis-6 couple of years ago. Creepy shit tearing down those old silos; never knew what kind of sick shit had been stored in them before getting to work.” One of the men said pointing and illuminating around the insides of the great vault like structure with his work light.

Towering dura-steel structures could be seen in the gloom and something huge which was vaguely humanoid or at least bipedal shaped was propped up by huge construction supports and parts for at least one more partially dismantled similar machinery lay scattered about, the place had clearly been abandoned in a hurry. The foreman noted.

“Best to get guns and more light before going in, some of these old silos have automated defenses and other nasty shit still active as fallout from the wars.” Still this felt altogether something else, the foreman mused scaling the walls with the flashlight until the beam caught a text on the wall –It was written with Kree-like alphabet but it sure as his skin was blue wasn’t any dialect of Kree that he knew of…

* * *

 

**Two months before present**

Lysis eyed angrily at the smartly dressed scientist babbling to him about the humongous war machine that was standing inert at the background behind them. “So let me get this straight, you’re saying we need a specific type of creature to be hooked into it as “brains” to get it operational?”

“Yes sir. Our preliminary studies of the remaining data being salvaged from deleted mainframe logs show that it requires specially designed and enhanced one at that. Those crazy bastards must have been either genius or barking mad. Possibly both; there are no other ways anyone would think of such an approach to elude the fact that according to all data the original host species to which these machines were tuned for is long extinct or has become excitingly rare.”

"It's what foiled the Melyans at the end or so I've heard, and what they started Xandarians had tried to finish..." the tall, lanky Skrull commander notes matter of fact-like.

The lead scientist nodded showing the data pad to Lysis. Lysis swore under his breath as he read on.

“Well make one ready for testing; I’m sure we have notes somewhere here or at the Half-world ruins how to prepare one of those, whatever the heck that ‘thing’ is called… We need to find out if this damn robot is even operational and you’re claiming it won’t even twitch without its brain-unit attached.” He curses again pushing the screen back to the scientist’s hands.

“It will take some time. We’d also need to accumulate more fresh samples from Sol-system. We’ve unfortunately depleted our previous stock.” the scientist acknowledges with a slightly pleading look.

“Make it so, I’ll notify the commander and see the men for your expedition.” Lysis sighs none too fond of the thought of having to be the one relaying the news of set-back to his master.

* * *

“I believe you’ve been given plenty of time already Lysis, my patience is wearing thin.” Commander said ending the call and carefully eliminated and wiped out all messages from Karnaka-system. _Careful plan was needed to oust the rattling who was far too popular and in no way stupid enough to be simply pushed aside. No, this needed some specialist help and he knew exactly where to find just the right pro’s for the job… Time to start the operation Amber moon in full._

* * *

“Well yay and wa hey-hey, you got me out, I’m happy all right. Now what the frakk do you want in exchange for your unexpected boons?” The tall bearded Spartan asked from his savior, piercing blue eyes sparkling with intensity while watching the last from Nova transport’s light escort-class Corvettes fail to escape the ambush and explode.

“Not to worry, Mr Knife. You’ll meet the boss as soon as we’ve ditched the Nova from our tail and put a few parsecs between us and these wrecks.” A hulking lizard-like alien in shiny segmented brass hued metallic armor noted looking at their fleet’s handiwork as dozen destroyed convoy ships floated by aimlessly in space outside the bay windows.

“Sure, I’ll go along with that plan for now Badoon.” Knife shrugged making a show out of his indifference which the Badoon seemed to not even notice.

**End of prologue**


	2. Twilight of an idol

 

## Twilight of an idol

##  **Ch 1**

**Xarth cluster, Xarth binary system- planet 3, Beta-5 quadrant – Capitolus city, northern polar region.**

**Present time, five years and nine months after the battle of Tänhauser Nebula.**

 

_“Let this end, Why won’t you let me die you bastards? I’ve the right to die you A-holes!” I mumble and finally scream out in my mind the moment I’m conscious enough to realize I’m not dead. It hurts, it hurts so much. I can’t open my eyes, they’re… taped shut? I can feel… Oh blessed creator I can feel something; no someone groping inside my chest cavity! Sharp spikes of pain make me hiss but I can’t even grit my teeth as something’s blocking my mouth and keeping dentition apart. Panic! I can’t move at all, I’m bound and being carved up like a slab of meat, another intrusion. Fear! Oh god something’s brushing my ear now. I’d tense my body and tail but even that simple gesture is beyond my control now. Must get out!"_

“His awake; well, bad timing but a good sign otherwise. Now put him back under, no dawdling or he’ll go into pain shock… Make note; anesthetics not working as expected. Dosage needs to be revised.” A stern unrecognizable voice says from somewhere above. "It's the chemical warfare mods, they make him resist most general anesthetics which you'd known if-" Disgruntled comment is cut off. "I am aware and I'm also in charge here so shut the flark up or get out!" Annoyed voice actually growls to the protestor. I struggle briefly before slipping away in to sweet oblivion.

I’m at the bridge of the Acquisition of illumination, in a white blue speckled hospital gown. Drax is there and so are Gamora and Astro, everyone’s there, even the damn dog Cosmo is there but they’re all dead… Well the dog shouldn’t be which is kind of weird. “You’re all dead! I…I know you are dead” I scream at them but they just stare at me with their lidless and empty dead eyes. “It’s your plan, Rocket… your plan. Your plans have never failed. Do not fail us.” And I hear them but they have no mouths so I must scream for them.

* * *

 Rocket jolts up in his bed throwing away the covers, panting and gasping for air. It feels like forever for his racing heart to still. Just another nightmare –no, a memory of some kind; he’d learned decades ago that he never had what other people called normal nightmares. He’d been offered medication for the anxiety, he’d refused. Doctors claimed he shouldn’t be able to remember anything from the various surgeries done to him over the years; it wasn't how the memory enhancements were supposed to work. Well maybe he _shouldn’t_ ; no, he _wouldn’t_ want to remember but those custom-made bionic image  & memory processing enhancements implanted to his occipital and temporal lobes pulled no favors with what they recorded and had a habit of presenting unpleasant ‘private shows’ by night.

It takes a moment for Rocket to collect himself and get dressed enough to feel comfortable with leaving his 76th-floor apartment suite’s lavish master bedroom. He had work to do today and it wouldn’t do it by itself.

”Once we were warriors, young and so krutacking proud and just as stupid; once but long ago… I was helluva lot more handsome too.” He sighs studying his wrinkled and strikingly scarred face at the mirror of his spacious bathroom and gulped a few pills with some water.

Not that aging had made him any less brash or cynical… bit slower perhaps but no less fierce or cunning. Those forty years of waving his ion cannon for the Galaxy and Egg Mc-muffins with Groot, first in the ranks of the Guardians and later for the good of Xarth, had merely polished the edges from Rocket’s crotchety behavior. He puts the comb through his fur three more times to give smooth and tidy appearance to his facial hair and for once his old and new cyber augments play nice and the right arm keeps steady. The new med’s seemed to working; for now at least. The symptoms kept coming back. Another thing his doctors claimed shouldn’t be happening… yeah he seemed to be collecting those as he got older. He tries not to think of what people would say if they knew that without medication his paws, once renowned and counted among the steadiest and accurate gun hands in the galaxy, would have shaken like leaves in the wind.

“ _As the Grand admiral of Xarth you can’t afford to look too shabby or unkempt especially in a day like this. Das’t Kree and their insistence on krutack like this._ ” He muses putting the comb back into his pocket, exiting the bathroom.

After some deliberation for his wear he donned his customary and custom made slightly dingy, grey combat armor with detachable arm and leg sleeves; the collar plates and chest piece decked in honor and rank insignias ***** in proper space-navy fashion. Not that he really cared and more often than not went without displaying them but he’d long since learned that appearance mattered even when he himself could have cared less about rank but armies were funny like that. The difference being that Rocket had long since talked the talk and walked the walk to be in such a position that he could have appeared in any remotely military-like attire in public in whichever combination he’d have chosen and still gotten away with it but had started to err on the side of caution ever since having his face half blown off in combat roughly six standard cycles ****** ago, and now actually preferred body armors and flak vests in lieu of more ‘comfortable’ uniforms. No matter if it was a grand victory day parade, unofficial general staff meeting or formal military negotiations like today where personal armor was supposedly unwarranted, he was rarely seen without it.

Deciding if he should wear shoes today took Rocket considerably longer; he finally ends up with a compromise attaching a matching pair of bracelets on his ankles and wrists. They weren’t really any kind of jewelry but highly sophisticated and expensive piece of kit which would retract or expand on command when needed to expose or protect the feet and palms from environmental hazards. He grabs his old warhorses from the kitchen table, a pair of trusty vintage Kree-made 20-wat Rampant Arms tech-II laser pistols and a plasma combat knife he’d made himself. He examines the guns and knife briefly, needlessly cocking and releasing the trigger mechanism of the guns and checking the knife battery thrice before

holstering the weapons on his utility belt. He quickly gobbles a sandwich from the kitchen stasis box unit and takes two glasses and a pitcher of Zunk juice with him and heads out to the large roof patio that was part of his apartment suite which basked at the late morning light from the larger of the two stars at Xarth’s binary system. The currently invisible red sun was comparatively small due to its distance though it was actually bigger of the two. During these winter months it would climb visible only for a few hours at late evenings which made even the worst winters at Xarth almost like Earth’s midsummer. As a consequence equatorial summers, when both suns were visible for equal length of time, were often unbearably hot causing the cooler Polar Regions tourism boom at summer and eventually favor it to become the seat of Government and major Galactic trade hub for the sectors under Xarth’s influence; it was no surprise that Capitolus city –Rocket’s current home city, was also located at the northern polar region.

* * *

The sound of glass-steel doors sliding open takes Groot’s attention away from the roof garden his tending. He turns around to regard his oldest and dearest friend with his soulful dark eyes as the raccoonoid is seating to a pillow atop a large dark wooden garden table and sets the glass and pitcher on it in front of him.

“I am Groot? _Morning Rocket, is that Zunk juice?”_ The tree-like humanoid greets dwarfing the pitcher into glass-sized at his huge palms.

“Morning! It’s almost noon you doofus, you should have woken me up. Yah, it’s from fresh zunk brought from our own plantation.” Rocket grumbles in his usual fashion.

“I am Groot. _You didn’t ask me to and_ _it’s still morning if late. Yes I am aware it is our zunk without being told. It was meant rhetoric.”_

“Whatever, Listen my entourage is here soon. Feel free to call me if you need anything. It’s not like you’d be interrupting anything important anyway.” Rocket shrugs as well as one could shrug at anything in such a rigid armor, taking his Zunk juice down the hatch in few quick goes.

“I am Groot?” _So if you deem your meeting with the Kree so unimportant, then why wear the environment bracelets, armor and the weapons like you were expecting a riot, if it’s just a formality?”_

“Oh come on! I’ve worn this armor almost daily for years and now you question my choices? No it’s not like I’m expecting trouble, it’s justified, and it’s just that I don’t want to get my face or other parts being vaporized again and I can wear what I damn well please.” Rocket spat slamming the glass down against the table way harder than was necessary.

“I am Groot? _Implants chafing again, anything I can do to help?”_ Groot merely stares with bland expression as always. He had gotten more than a little bit used to Rocket’s tendency to explode from the most trivial things.

“Nah, it’s not that for a change. This time they’re actually behaving. I just feel something like ennui and have this intimation that by the end of the day I’ll wish I’d had just the ennui. It’s getting me on the edge; you know the way you just ‘know’ by the itch between your shoulder blades that you’re being stalked by a

guy in disguise cloak and he isn’t having your health in mind.” Rocket shakes his head slightly, idly using his black index finger claw to scratch the bare metal plates inserted parallel on both sides of his muzzle and cheeks, -a bionic reconstructive surgery to keep his nasal bridge from collapsing after the original bone and cartilage were gone in a C-beam blast induced trauma *******.

“I am Groot _. I should have been there at the Tänhauser nebula, for you_ -“. But Rocket interjects before he can say more.

“Don’t. It’s still not your fault that you were nothing but a twig after our mission with the Luminals…”

“I am-“. Groot huffs again but Rocket raises his hand to stop his friend’s protests.

“-And I chose to oversee that one myself in person just as I insisted on being present in person at the deck of the _Acquisition of the illumination_ two weeks laterwhen those damn beams _struck,_ and may I note that I still got back up and stayed conscious long enough to issue the orders for us to win the engagement even though I nearly bought the ticket for my troubles. Why are you bringing this up now?”

“I am Groot! _My point is you’re not a ‘lowly bounty hunter’ or ‘insignificant nobody’ anymore; neither of us is and hasn’t been for decades. You even less than me Rocket; you’re the First grand Admiral Xarth has ever had. Xandarians, Xarthians. Kree, Shi’ar, Spartax and most of the people in Skrull Galaxy see us as war heroes and those who don’t, such as the Badoon and Sakaaran, will target us first because we are deemed as high value.”_ Groot announces more forcibly.

“Since when did you get all strategic all of a sudden?!” Rocket asks sharply in hopes of diverting the discussion on something else. But Groot was having none of the ruse.

“I am Groot _. More than forty years fighting beside arguably the finest strategist and possibly one of the most daring mercenaries in the 3 known galaxies have had its effects. Don’t change the subject Rocket. I care for you, why do you still keep taking such risks. Just last week you had it in your head to join in on illegal pod racing in disguise at the white skull canyons and got nearly hospitalized.”_

“I- I’m not taking risks…I wasn’t even close to that, just a scrape. It was nothing like the Tänhauser all over again.” Rocket begins but ‘melts’ under Groot’s gaze. “All right, I miss the old days and just want to feel alive, to get that rush of excitement but that doesn’t mean I’m taking needless risks.”

“I am Groot? _And Tänhauser nebula wasn’t the biggest risk and a gamble of them all for you? 80 against 3000. I’ve heard the space jockeys at the cantinas are still speaking of it and calling it the murder nebula now... And even as Grand admiral’s funhouse when you’re out of earshot. You promised me not to do such things anymore. Do you ever even think of what happens to me if you die? We’ve come so far from the slums of the hub and though I’ve resigned long ago to the fact that I will outlive you- but please I cannot bear to see you hasten it.”  
_

“As long as they’re not calling it as the last stand of what-ever-the-hell-they-like, I don’t really care. That battle was anything but last stand. You know I don’t deal with last stand or forlorn hope-scenarios. I never run out of options to end up in one.” Rocket comments with a touch of pride in his voice.

Groot replies with an intense stare relaying that he wasn’t amused by Rocket’s quip and bravado.

Rocket seems slightly taken aback for a moment. “I’m sorry Groot. I honestly don’t want to upset you when I do some drastic plans and they blow up on my face. ”He collects himself some then continues rambling on.

“And if you’re going to whine about Tänhauser though it was like six years ago…for Pete’s sake. Look, we routed those flarking V’saine fair and square besides it wasn’t nearly as bad as the news reports claim. It’s not like I planned on being at the command deck eating C-beams once their main force morale broke and their remaining flag ship’s command went totally flarnak, deciding to ram us through despite our core already going critical- Who the hell puts solid flare C-beams on battleships anyway? Besides it was actually 30 Shi’ar heavy corvettes 26 Kree cruisers and seventeen Xarthian heavies with 29 auxiliary flying tubs and assorted space junk I managed to scavenge against 2947 V’saine mantis ships lured into preplanned ambush scenario and we had 12 Shi’ar corvettes still running after repairs the next day and 7 of the Xarthian heavies I mentioned. It would have been a lot sweeter if one of those damn barges hadn’t had an engine failure and dropped out of warp-“

“I am Groot _. I’ve read the reports. The point is that you were not running the next day; you were damn near dead and in medical coma for months while teams of surgeons, healers and even scientists and engineers did their utmost to parse you AND whatever machinery is ticking inside of you back together. Just consider me when you make your next crazy plan, that’s all I’m asking.”_ Groot interrupts Rocket by grabbing him into a tight hug over the table.

“I always do you big sap. You-can- let- go- now. Cough.” Rocket promises with a slight wheeze from the sudden hug. Groot lets go but not before Rocket gives his own hug back.

_“He maybe more than fifty years old scarred and crotchety cyborg raccoonoid but his grip is still hard as steel and his still that same little raccoonoid I met forever ago, flark me he is and that’s what I so love about him.”_ Groot makes an affectionate mental note watching his friend dexterously scamper down from the table and head back inside alerted by the intercoms that his escort has arrived.

* * *

 Second ensign Xan felt excited; this was his first time in any kind of honor or bodyguard detachment and to Grand admiral of Xarth-3 himself no less. He’d re-watched all the episodes of the age old Mojo-TV mockumentary ‘Rocket and Groot Steal the Galaxy’ at least a dozen times after hearing his new assignment and had even tried to ask in advance about their “package”, as VIP’s were sometimes called in the army, from his friends at the Luminals –the super powered detachment of Xarth defense forces. It was said that it had been the Luminals who tipped the senate vote by originally vouching for the skill and integrity of the Raccoonoid Rocket of the famed Guardians of the Galaxy paramilitary group in front of the High senate to take charge of shaping the nascent navy forces some odd twenty-thirty cycles ago. He’d seen and read all about the Grand Admirals exploits from books and mojo-TV when he was a kid and even if only half of it was true and not just the usual hearsay and TV-hyperbole typically attached to larger than life persons like him. His and the Guardians deeds were nothing short of astonishing, stopping the Phalanx and Annihilus, escaping the Kyln and Devlin-9 prison complexes in less than 24h after being incarcerated, threatening to throw the mad titan Thanos himself into black hole if he wouldn’t comply and making the titan actually scared enough comply. Even when his more obscure military exploits and the more crazy stunts were left out as nothing but legend building the grand admiral’s deeds were still legendary; deeds such as pushing Gladiator –the Great majestor of the Shi’ar on the deck for whole four minutes with nothing but a mop, single handedly destroying two Badoon cruisers, hijacking and flying the gigantic space station Knowhere for a spin and destroying C.U.T Temple ships and black Archons with nothing but a single well-placed detonation and photon minigun and as the latest; decimation of the V’saine armada while vastly outnumbered and outgunned. In short Second ensign Xan was having all the symptoms of a nerd crush.

* * *

 “All right boys; I know some of you are new to this kind of op. But it’s actually very simple. We’re just an escort making sure our V.I.P gets to do what he needs to without interference or inconvenience. You have already been acquainted with his schedule –which is on page three, on page 6 are his usual special wishes and needs, on page 8 to 50 his known enemies and on page 61-75 are other things needed for the assignment such as species related medical data; just for you bone saws”. He notes with a bit of nod to the assigned medical officers.

“Read the files now if you haven’t already. Be ready to leave in ten. Dismissed.” Captain Jcaan announces to his squad in his usual candid fashion placing a special eye on the young second ensign who seemed to be either daydreaming or having sleep deprivation effects for some odd reason.

_"Good thing the army had long since developed pills for that"._ The captain thought grimly as he made purposeful stride towards the young second ensign before he could disperse from the room with the other men.

* * *

 “So that’s the new guy?” Grand admiral noted about Second ensign Xan to his Captain almost as soon as they walked out from the admiral’s apartment to the corridor leading to the elevators. As was customary, Jcaan hand signaled for his men to make a quick row against the walls for the Admiral to make an inspection. Rocket already knew the names of those who were escorting him, so there was no need to reintroduce them.

“hmph, I kind of liked third ensign Dwain, guess the new face will haf’ta do and fill in.” Rocket notes in fairly nonplus fashion rubbing the metal plate at the side of his muzzle as he makes his inspection. Like all native Xarthians, they were tall and bit on the lanky side; from grey to light purple-skinned, green to black haired and pointy eared with sharp angular features wearing the standard drab grey infantry body armors and pulse-type cold fusion-based plasma rifles. Nothing fancy, just good, rugged and reliable weapons just like the men carrying them.

“Yes sir. Second ensign Xan is new but well trained.” The captain answers reassuringly, having already figured from past experience what his V.I.P (and normally high ranking CO) is going to say next.

“Twenty? What the flark do we need twenty for? It’s not like those Kree are going to kidnap or assassinate me. Ten even five would have sufficed. Honestly twenty!” And he doesn’t fail the Captain’s expectations, announcing it right on time almost like a clock.

Captain Jcaan merely nods “yes sir, Inner-security department orders –as always”. Also from past experience in escorting his more often than not cranky but forever astute Admiral, he knew the short furry alien didn’t really mean much by it either. Grand admiral Rocket was in fact more often than not letting Captain and his men do their job as they deemed fit with far less interference than almost anyone else Jcaan had escorted with regularity. Something which secretly made Jcaan fairly pleased. The part Jcaan didn’t find particularly endearing about him was incidentally his memory. Grand admiral NEVER seemed to forget even the slightest detail. It was almost scary to have a superior who could note you about something that had happened at your watch three cycles ago in perfect detail and since the Admirals humor was notoriously dark...

* * *

Grand Admiral Rocket cranes his neck critically eyeing the escort lined against the corridor wall with Captain Jcaan at his side before stopping at Second ensign Xan.

Second ensign Xan hadn’t been sure what to expect before seeing his hero for the first time in person but he certainly hadn’t expected such an old cranky creature with a corsair-like vibe emanating from this person standing in front of him in his full combat gear minus the helmet –much more like Kree than Xarthian military-attire in Xan’s personal opinion, with a language more fitting to brothel pimps and Shi’ar pirates than the space navy’s top brass Admiral and de facto figurehead; all delivered in surprisingly deep and gravel voice. You’d expect such a small person to sound way shriller. Official histories seemed to leave those particular points out as well as omitting few other things too while at it; such as his almost unnervingly unblinking gaze and the fact that he was so small –like really short, not even child short, he was like even more short if such a thing was a thing in the first place. The few actual official pictures were clearly dated as in none of them he had those horrific scars that were marring his face but the few words the grand admiral addressed to Xan were enough to emphasize that he undoubtedly had the charisma and presence of a natural leader who enticed you to obey and follow when the chips were down.

“New boy gets to carry my purse.” The Grand admiral announces unceremoniously, plopping the old and frayed military backpack he was carrying in to Xan’s lap. Second ensign Xan stares dully at the heavy pack thrust upon his arms with some rounded and square hard objects inside feeling through the fabric. He points some uncertain looks at his Captain and then the Admiral where upon the Captain tries to point with eye emotes that ‘yes he, Xan was to pick it up and carry it like it was his own’.

“Bit slow on the uptake, is he? Oh well nothing we can fix right now.” The Grand admiral notes eyebrows puckering at the ensign’s sluggishness to comply with carrying the backpack.

“Ahem- Sir, his just a bit flustered.” Captain Jcaan replies figuring to save his man before The Admiral could flay the poor boy with his words.

“Flustered, Why the frakk would he be? “ He asks when something seems to dawn to him. “His NOT one of those, is he?” The Grand admiral sighs with a face palm and a slow groan escapes from his throat.

“Yeah, he kinda is, sir. I still vouch for my men and assure you that it won’t become an issue.”

“It better be or you and I will have one between us Jcaan.” The grand Admiral grumbles without any sense of humor. Captain Jcaan blinks before nodding militarily in response and the escort slowly gets moving.

* * *

Though the journey to spaceport aboard his hovercraft with the escort was rather uneventful Rocket couldn’t shake the feeling that it was not to last. He knew the source of his discomfort was something which Terrans referred as sixth sense, the sublime but often subtle combination of actual instincts, acute senses and life’s experience combined with mnemonics and in some cases latent psionic or premonition abilities. He lacked any psionic or premonition abilities but had more than ample supply from the first four to substitute for the lack of the two latter. He craved a good shot of Timothy but of course the hovercraft had none available despite Rocket specifically placing a direct order ages ago that some was to be available for him at all times. Even the premixed bottle under the passenger seat’s exceedingly well hidden compartment had been raided pointing at someone from the inside. He suspected that some health Fascist in the Navy or Public relations dept. had issued a counter order judging by the way his particular order to have some never seemed to go through. So he settled for regular Rigellian brandy which was nothing like Timothy in terms of satisfaction, taste, effect or brain cell body count; a small pleasure despite being his favorite brandy.

“Is everything all right, sir?” Captain notes his charge’s discomfort.

“Fine, just flarking dandy. Why the flark I’m no longer having any Timothy ingredients on board?” Rocket curses refilling his brandy glass before placing the bottle back into bar cabinet.

“I wouldn’t know sir; it wasn’t in the list of requisites.”

“That’s because some capital A-hole health Fascist at the Staff office is cock-blocking my direct orders to have some on board…” Rocket notes dimly and Captain can only nod and secretly wonder who would have the balls to go up against the grand Admiral like this. Not that Captain Jcaan actually disapproved the unknown culprit’s bravery; Timothy was deemed just shy from illegal and as something which sane people should never drink in the first place, not to mention actually crave.

The hovercraft convoy lurches into a halt at the terminal’s parking court and the escort forms a circle around Rocket before moving forward to pass the several hundred yards of open public parking court into terminal building. And the first attempt on his life is made.

* * *

 Loud crashing booms echo through the courtyard as several canister of… something? Fall down from the sky exploding near and around the escort’s location obliterating Rocket’s hovercraft in the process, much to his chagrin. The brownish fog emitting from the exploding cans begins to coalescent into rusty brown centipede-like shapes with gaping maws decked in many rows of sharp teeth, their many appendixes and segmented bodies ridged by manes with poisonous quills not unlike the ones on lionfish of earth. Jcaan and most of his men blink and stare in surprise having never faced anything quite like this.

“Phew that was close.” Second ensign Xan sighs aloud in relief while Rocket and Jcaan exchange looks. Rocket’s toothy and disturbingly wide grin is weirdly opposite to Jcaan’s morbid grimace as the raccoonoid grabs his bag from startled Xan’s shoulder.

“Finally some fun around here!” Rocket quips; upending the contents of his bag on the ground with audible metallic clatter. He expertly attaches the detachable sleeves into his armor. The bracelets at his wrists and ankles expand to cover his foot soles, toes, and palm digits before he places an open-faced helmet on his head and lowers the yellow tinted visor over the eyes. The collapsible twin stack barreled hypersonic ion cannon hums into life the barrels extending to reach way above its user’s height.

“You heard it you maggots. Blast those things and get moving towards the terminal building!” Captain Jcaan bellows the orders shooting a full barrage with his cold fusion assault rifle between the eyes of the first worm-like thing closing in at his right and the creature drops dead In front of him with a very satisfactory thud.

“Yes SIR!” The squad replies in near unison blasting at the emerging monsters left right and center with grudging Rocket firmly at their center while moving towards the Terminal in double-circle formation to avoid being boxed in by the monsters at the middle of the square.

“Damn there’s too many of them! I’m barely denting these fuckers!” One of the squaddies groan only partially evading a shower of poisonous quills directed at his face. Rocket recons this to be Xaanth. It was a bit hard to tell from behind him and with all the layers of armoring on the man but at least he was still functional despite some of the quills unavoidably sticking through his arm. Rocket grits his teeth evaluating the situation. _“Damn it, I can only see legs from down here. At least there are so many beasts swarming over one another in trying to reach us that it greatly hampers their attacks.”_ He needed more room to be able to use his cannon but he lacked command rights to directly order Jcaan’s men out of the way. D’ast, how much he missed Groot at moments like these.

“Flark this, if you Krutacks aren’t playing nice then so not am I!” Rocket screams seeing an exploitable gap opening up at their ring with Xaanth having obvious difficulties in staying up and functional; and mere moments later Yocar drops his gun and topples into spasming heap from being hit again, this time right in the face with several spikes protruding and penetrating through the helmets facial plates indicating the stupendous force and speed of hit from the said quills. _“A pity I actually thought third ensign Yocar as fairly competent with good future at the Navy”_ Rocket sighs inaudibly as he pushes out of the ring past Xerth and Rodas who were reaching to stand in front of him to block the monsters from getting at him and their faltering mates but Rocket was hell-bent on having some fun and revenge with his big guns for a change and they were in his way.

“Sir what are you doing, get back inside the circle!” Jcaan screams into helmet coms over the screech and moaning of beasts, guns and men alike as Rocket weaves past the men and narrowly dodges yet another shower of poisonous quills from the monsters and avoids a pair of nasty pinchers from the one he somersaults over to land on his feet almost at the middle of them.

“Me? Well I’m just having you standing there out of my line of fire Cap, and while you wonder What the flark I think I’m doing I go like this:” Rocket yells back letting his gun roar with an impossibly keen wheeze from high powered ionic charges being fired in every possible direction at a rate of fire which the ginormous gun most assuredly was not originally designed or even capable of, ripping through the monstrous creatures like nobody’s business. In twenty seconds flat the last beasts flap and flop dead and dying on the ground like fish out of water and the only sound at the square is Rocket’s cannon ejecting its spent cartridge on the pavement.

“Crisis over boys!” Rocket announces propping his helmet theatrically atop his gun with his left hand while grabbing a sat-com device from his belt with the right hand. He promptly throws the coms away as broken after noticing a large quill sticking through it. Jcaan and his men just stare agape not quite sure of what to make of the display, well except widely grinning first ensign Xan who had sort of expected something like this from his idol.

“Now get me the flarking Luminals on the bleeding line and make sure every last one of these Pama forsaken mother krutackers is deader than dead and get to herding those flipping civics and stop ogling at me like a bunch of glavnars you are professionals for frakk sakes!” Rocket positively seethes, yelling his orders over the rising din of the crowd slowly gathering up around the Court to rubberneck as the fight dies down and the full carnage is revealed. Dozens of dead and injured civilians lay dead or dying and moaning in pain, slain or injured by the beasts though just as many have fallen victim to stampede to get away from them. Several vehicles beside Rocket’s hovercraft are in flames from stray shots, terminal’s windows have been smashed in by shockwaves from the initial blasts by the delivery canisters. The whole courtyard is under general mayhem, gore, snot and ebbing panic all in mere five minutes timeframe.

Captain Jcaan tries his best to keep pace with fast-moving Rocket examining the bodies of dead creatures, squad mates and civilians alike, though it seemed that most casualties who got hit and poisoned by quills might not survive, the rest probably would.

“Rapid growth nanotech bio-weapons are pretty crude if I may say so; they’re designed more for mass terror than actual efficiency. Make sure the forensics send samples to my workshop as well.” Rocket notes to Jcaan retracting the barrel assembly before holstering the cannon on the slot at the back of his armor.

“Crude? They seemed to do a pretty thorough job in my opinion.” Captain comments taking in the devastation they were walking through.

“Those canisters were aimed against me and they at least seemingly failed; besides nobody deploys bio-weapons like these unless they plan to end the day with as much as pus, snot and gore as humanely possible. A smart missile would have done a lot better job if the aim was in purely killing me.”

“Meaning what exactly?“

“It was maybe a warning or an attempt to weaken the public morale for some reason which is odd, there’s no major unrest reported recently and there haven’t been violent dissident factions in ages and we haven’t been in direct conflict with the major Galactic powers for many cycles.”

“Then who or why-?” Jcaan frowns just as puzzled for the lack of any obvious motive.

“That’s why I’m going to task the Luminals to find out where those cans were shot from and by whom. I’ve got a ship to Xarth-5 to catch in case you’ve forgotten… And if this was meant as a diversion, it-” Rocket reminds Jcaan while walking past one of the creatures still writhing despite the huge hole through its torso. “Hold that a sec-!” He quips slashing at the beast in the nape of the neck three times in rapid succession with his plasma knife. “As I was saying this might also be an attempt to sabotage our meeting with the Kree or perhaps even an attempt for some domestic casus belli to attempt a legal reform in the future.” He finishes his sentence wiping the knife clean on a piece of cloth as the creature stops trashing and finally decides to actually die.

Captain Jcaan looks decidedly ill at ease from the thought of someone deliberately provoking “domestic casus belli”.

* * *

 Once the Luminals arrive with the civil emergency to take charge of cleaning up things the duo could have a few private words inside at the terminal’s office lounge before Rockets ship was scheduled to launch, the surviving escort is standing in vigil just behind the door. Good thing they had arrived early for the departure.

“So why didn’t you destroy those beasts as soon as you saw them instead of letting us to become ripped into pieces first since you obviously could, Rocket. And what’s with the idea of hopping right in the middle of them?” Captain Jcaan presses dropping the honorifics.

“Figured you guys would be able to handle it and you deserved a bit of the limelight in my opinion, besides your boys were in my line of fire and we both know I’m not supposed to counter the orders you just gave in the middle of a battle. It’s simply bad form, no proper chain and all that.” Rocket replies honestly while checking all his guns for the third or fourth time as far as Jcaan could surmise.

“Look, I’ve slain these things before but those damn poison quills and additional chitin armor were new for me as well and it’s not like I planned to get your boys killed for nothing. It’s been decades the last time I’ve had those things aimed at me.” Rocket elaborates with a bit of apology for the fallen in his voice. A bit because it was seen as very crash and impolite to directly apologize among Xarthians thus any actual apologies were either handled by proxies or by the use of elaborate, almost ritualistic phrases and hours of carefully worded talks. Rocket very much wanted to avoid that part; he was on a timetable after all.

“I see.” Captain notes coolly though he secretly appreciated the Admirals tact in the matter.

Jcaan then nods with a sigh. “I’m sorry for being this crass to you sir, but they were good men. I had only read about those d’ast things myself prior to this but without you it would have been a lot worse.” The Xarthian’s sudden and uncharacteristic way of dropping his cultural peculiarity of never directly apologizing gets a few blinks from Rocket.

“Apology accepted. Yeah, I liked those guys too.” Rocket nods hastily.

Suddenly a commotion is heard from outside the office.

“Now what-?” Captain Jcaan mutters while Rocket is already yelling “Let him through or he’ll go through you!”

In no time at all the small office space is partially halfway filled by the tree-like humanoid of the planet-X grabbing Rocket off the floor into a tight hug. “I am Groot!” it bellows.

“Oh come on Groot, I’m fine. It was nothing really.” Rocket protests without much success while the Captain looks decidedly uncertain having almost never actually interacted with Groot.

“I am Groot?” Groot asks lowering Rocket gently back to floor briefly retaining his embrace on his friend with his vines before retracting them as well.

“Yeah, those damn fast growth nanites, remember the time we were guarding the newly augured galactic council at Ovart and King Blastaar got targeted?” Rocket asks animated.

“I am Groot” Groot nods.

“Anyway, we lost a couple of our guys but we got the bastards before they could kill too many people at the square.” Rocket concludes once his briefly explained what has happened to Groot.

“I am Groot!” Groot says determinedly and crosses his huge arms in defiance.

“I figured you’d say that Groot. Captain Jcaan, Groot’s coming as well.” Rocket announces calmly, turning to face Captain Jcaan.

“Yes sir.” Captain acknowledges leaving their company to handle the arrangements for Rocket’s tree friend to come and join them aboard. What Rocket didn’t reveal to either Groot or the Captain was that he still felt that danger itch between his shoulder blades.

 

* * *

 

 

> *Easily detachable Omni magnetic insignias were quite handy, really.  
>  **One galactic standard cycle is roughly 385 earth days based on the mathematically averaged size and rotation of habitable class M planets around their primary stars in the Galaxy.  
>  *** Arguably injuries caused by the so called C-beams are among the nastiest plasma type traumas catalogued in the galactic medical database. C standing for construction and though the beams work just fine as weapons they have all the drawbacks of an improvised ghetto weapon. Any injury caused by the beam are notoriously hard to regenerate and reconstruct by contemporary surgery even by the finest specialists at highly advanced Alpha-world medical facilities located in planets like Kree-lar of the Kree, Alpha Centauri-3 at Centauri, The throne world of Chandilar, Tirgath in shi’ar empire, Xarth-3 of the Xarthians, Spartax of Spartoi Imperium or the Prime worlds of Free colony alliance around Sirius major star cluster.


	3. Xaon summit

## Xaon summit

## Ch 2

**Xarth cluster, Xarth binary system- planet 5, Beta-5 quadrant – Ixus Mining Corporation, atmospheric gas mining and refinery outpost**

**Six hours later**

Xarth-5 (Xaon) was fairly typical and unassuming gas planet with 3 thin dust and ice rings and about a dozen moons. The white spherical atmospheric gas mining station orbiting it was just as unassuming, which was probably why the Kree had viewed the privately owned station as more neutral ground than anything closer to Xarth-3 which was just a petty rebuttal by the Kree in Rocket’s opinion, since Xarth’s influence reached well beyond its own solar system now. Rocket follows his escort to their assigned living quarters with some bore. Once you had lived a good while in space all the stations started to look alike as if they were of the same basic mold with only few basic variants. This was a new station which meant it was still fairly clean and quite orderly; In essence he found it boring as heck in comparison to older, seedier and more established stations. This one didn’t even have a proper strip bar or gambling establishment and probably never would as long it was mainly used for gas mining and refining. Even the shop keeps were understudied by automated trade vendors. Rocket had already decided that he also hated that soft machine hum crooning just below most humanoids hearing range, permeating the station. He hoped the vendor bots would sell earplugs that would fit to his larger than normal ear canals.

Their offered quarters were spacious if quite austere with little in the way of luxury which Groot didn’t need and Rocket didn’t care. He’d slept far worse over the years and it wasn’t like they were going to stay for any extended time. Captain Jcaan placed two of his men on guard outside and left Rocket and Groot for themselves to prepare for the negotiations which were to start within a few hours.

“I wonder why they wanted this all personal & neutral-like. I really don’t see too much point in seeing them face to face. This whole negotiation is fairly pointless affaire which could have been handled just fine via holofields. None of these reports offer anything new on why the Kree actually want this in person with just ME and wouldn’t settle for holo. Honestly it all stinks to high heaven.” Rocket grumbles fingering the touch screen while laboring through the intelligence reports the general staff had provided.

“I am Groot” _We’ll see in a few hours. Relax take a deep breath, you’ve been on the edge all day.”_

“Easy for you to say, you’re not one who gets the blame if we come back with nothing. I told the same things at general staff holo-meet on our flight here and all they said was; you worry too much, you see boogie men in everything. Go find out what’s it about. It’s only a few hours of flight and do try to look formal.” Rocket puts the screen away and gives out a deep sighed grimace and kneads his cheeks tiredly.

“I am Groot. _So they’ve no more idea what’s all this about than you do?_

“I dunno anymore… I had the impression this was to be something about border patrols and all that frack but you don’t need to see in-person for that or attempt to kill me to deter the meeting. It just makes no flarking sense and when I meet those damn Kree delegates I’m gonna kill ’em in the face if I’m not happy with the answers I get!” Rocket fumes in frustration and starts to walk in circle around the table.

Rocket spent the remaining hour before the meeting by polishing his armor and combing away his ‘helmet fur’ to look properly kempt in front of the Kree delegates. Captain Jcaan wisely keeps his questions to himself when escorting Rocket to the meeting. He and his men exchange collegial nods with the Kree guard-envoy of four already posted outside the door. They exchange a few words in Kree and Jcaan leaves four men with the Kree and Rocket walks inside, one of the Kree closing the door for him.

* * *

 

Taking stock of the situation Rocket immediately notices that there are three Kree in their usual style black hoods and robes standing next to the congress table. They stop talking as soon as he walks in. The shortest one is pale pinkish skinned and the rest are the usual blue hued nobility. Well none of them had the hammer so they probably weren’t Accusers despite the black cowls and robes. Accuser would never let his universal weapon less than six feet away even when engaged in unarmed negotiations.

“Is this supposed to be funny? You bring three guys but insisted on seeing only me.” Rocket accuses eyes narrowing in suspicion and hands lowering almost immediately near the absent guns at his hip.

The Kree delegates stiffen immediately and exchange looks before the pinkish skinned takes a distinctly un-Kree like step forward in an attempt to diffuse things down. “Just relax Rocky; we really have a reason for all this cloak and dagger stuff.”

At this close it’s impossible for Rocket to misidentify Star-lord. The man might look slightly different now but ones basic scent didn’t really change with age. Not to mention Pete’s guaranteed cheap Terran aftershave and almost trademark irreverent tone of voice. “You better have a good one Pete or I’ll swear to gods you’ll all be full of holes for putting me through all the hoops, friend or no friend.” He growls ears flat, tail erect and teeth half-bared looking ready to mow them down in a heartbeat despite having left his guns to his quarters.

“Dad’s back, Rock.” Peter blurts quickly in his usual carefree I’m-not-thinking sort of way.

“The hell he is Pete. We sent Knife in to Kyln to sit his balls blue and ass sore decades ago after that damn vortex-crisis.” Rocket reminds sternly though his stance relaxes slightly.

“Well it all points to him.”

“Is that why you’re having those goons with you now Pete?”

“Um, actually we’re here to negotiate a border patrol treaty. He just sort of came along as a favor insisting on all this hush-hush.” One of the blue skinned Kree says uncertainly.

“Right then, we’ll get that flark out of the way first. Pete’s problems can wait.” Rocket relaxes ushering the Kree to sit at the table ignoring Peter.

Quill looked rather miffed at being brushed aside like that.

* * *

 

 _“Well that was smooth, Rocky, Calling Jo-loo a fascist bigot_.” Star-Lord thinks listening Rocket bickering back and forth with Kar-lee and Jo-loo about Naval refueling rights on some backwater colony which both Xarth and Kree saw as being important for strategic reasons and which Kree considered as being under their protection. Once it was settled it was Rocket’s turn to start one about Xarth’s right to send deep space probes as they saw fit near Kree space without prior announcement as long as it wasn’t happening IN the Kree space and so forth.

Despite the differing views it all actually went surprisingly smooth considering Rocket’s mercurial temper and the notorious Kree pride and prejudice towards LLF’s –which in their eyes encompassed pretty much all non- blue Kree. Star-lord reminisced that he and Rocket got the pass for the most part because they had helped saving Kree Empire almost too numerously to count. In the end both parties shook hands as a sign of reaching an agreement and signed-in on the data pads as preliminary agreement. It would of course have to go through several meetings and votes in both Empires governments before being actually valid but it was a start. The Kree dip their heads ever so slightly to Rocket and give an inquisitive glance at Star-lord before leaving Rocket to chat with Peter alone.

Rocket waits for the door to close before turning his attention fully to Peter. “So how you been Peter? When was it-, five-six years ago and then 9 months ago at the hospital the last time we saw like this –when I had nearly lost my life and muzzle.”

“Yeah, something like that, -the usual stuff I guess. I don’t get much involved with the younger Guardians now that I’ve also semi-retired, –But we’re not seeing often enough in any case.” Quill shrugs, finding it hard not to stare or give glances at Rocket’s facial scars. It felt disheartening to see his friend disfigured in such a fashion. Strangely it had felt less gut wrenching to look at them when Rocket had been lying in coma at the hospital while covered under heavy bandages from neck to hairline.

Rocket’s eyes narrow at the surreptitious glances given to his direction. “You’ve got issues with my face Pete? Well speak up, I’m right flarking here.”

“No, no nothing like that. It’s just, well a bit unnerving to see how close it was that you wouldn’t even be here. Just a few inches and- I mean you’re my best friend Rocky and I don’t know what I’d do if you’d –you know went away.” Peter says making a finger-on-throat gesture, suddenly finding it very hard to say ‘die’ as if saying it now might make it happen one day.

“And now you’re giving me frakkin’ diabetes, Pete. When I die, I die and that’s it. Come on let’s get back to my quarters. Groot’s going to be happy to see you, his still as sappy as you are and we can talk more _freely_ there.” Rocket grumbles drawing Peter’s attention to minuscule listening device the Kree had ‘forgotten’ glued under the table when they left. He then casually removes the Kree-data mining software from his data pad that was used to sign the treaty.

Peter frowns suspiciously at the devices and nods in agreement to Rocket.

“Standard and arguably pointless espionage tactics these days when everyone expects it, I really liked it more when this shit wasn’t as casual as now and every mid-level diplomat wasn’t thinking himself as a super spy… These days it’s no longer even seen as a diplomatic faux pass.”

“What’s that Terran phrase you used to quote Quill? Oh times oh manners! –yeah that’s the one.” Rocket sighs ruefully as he crunches the Kree bugs against the floor with his foot heel.

* * *

 

Groot was naturally quite happy and taken at seeing Peter, grabbing him to his bear hug almost as soon as the man had stepped in through the door to quarters Groot shared with Rocket. Rocket orders for some food and drinks to be brought in only to learn that when the mess cantina is closed, the only available ‘food’ is mostly from the vending machines consisting of dried or canned ‘space food’ and drinks which are either hot or cold water or horrid tasting tar-like coffee or weak tea akin to dishwater.

“So what’s it like Rocky?” Peter asks deciding that he wasn’t really all that hungry after all, pushing away his instant noodle ‘supper’ which tasted like ash to him. Rocket is similarly down voting his ‘coffee’. The only one satisfied is Groot who doesn’t really eat anything but water and sunlight anyway.

“What is; this ugly brew or my Grand admiralship?” Rocket asks undressing his armor and putting it to hang from a peg for the night.

“The whole army thing, I never really thought you’d agree to do it let alone be in it for decades.”

“Yeah well, it eventually became a bit of a pet project of mine and it’s nice to be actually respected and not just because you can shoot some Badoon’s shrimp to atoms from 800yards. Also resources, Pete, just one word: resources!”

“Badoon don’t have external genitals Rocket.”

“My point exactly.” Rocket cackles nastily to his own quip. “Gosh, I’ve missed you Pete. Xarthians are okay but they’re just so –painfully tame to have any real fun with.”

“You’re welcome, Rock.” Peter smiles readily. “I’ve missed you too, damn I miss the gang too and would love to get us all back together again and go roam the Galaxy like we used to.”

“Yeah, but Drax and Astrovik have been MIA for years now. Gamora is presumably dead like them somewhere at Zyxx-7. Venom… well let’s not talk about that business… and the rest of the old guard that’s still accountable, are old and/or deadbeat like us. I’ve been keeping tabs on our people now that I’ve the resources to do so. Carol’s busy with her grand kids and hubby at Terra, Tony –I don’t know what his doing anymore but I think he went over the edge ages ago and is sitting at his mansion all day doing Pama knows what; last I heard the guy’s a total hermit now. Cosmo is likely about to die of old age soon as well so remind me to book a visit. Mantis –she said just three months ago that she isn’t going to do any Guardian business anymore not with the old or the new gang, probably something to do with how Drax and Astro just vanished and the way Gamora disappeared soon after what went on at Zyxx-7 after Zyxx-6; Mantis took it way harder than the rest of us for some reason. Then Heather went searching after her old man –not sure if she’d come back even if I could find her and begged her to return on my knees. Tick- I think the lover bug’s in slam again –for fornicating with some backwater planet royalty. It just wouldn’t be the same with just you me and Groot.” Rocket shrugs melancholically.

“Yeah even Jack’ finally put his cape to the closet awhile back as well, claiming that he’d had enough with the cosmic shit especially now when everything is cosmic according to him; because Earth has been acknowledged as sufficiently advanced to be star faring civilization by the galactic council.” Star-lord sighs wearily and a pregnant silence falls between the two. Rocket's staring at his cup o’ Joe like it would tell his future and Star-lord absently poking at his inedible bad noodles with a fork.

“I am Groot?” Groot eventually asks breaking the silence.

“Huh? Oh you mean our young guns? Yeah well I guess we could ask to have a bit of tour with them for old time’s sakes. I know my brats would get a ton of fun from it. I might even go see the missus again.” Rocket nods waking from the reverie he had fallen in.

“Brats, I thought you loved your kids and mate, Rock?” Peter squints a little at the choice of word.

“Oh c’mon Pete, of course I love e’m but I’m also a raccoonoid and we happen to share a few more things in common with Procyonids of Earth than just the fur pattern –even though I may dislike to admit it T-Y-V-M; and being a ‘bad’ father figure is something of a hardwiring in males of my kind. Nidnene knew what she got when we hooked up in that bar & lodging parlor at Procyon-6.”

“In other words, you’re perfectly happy to leave your kits to their mom and run off without a second glance until they hit their teens, no alimony no nothing? Talk about care-free marriage.” Peter chides.

“Well yeah, it is how my kind runs their families and it works fine for us. These days we set a trust for the offspring to get by and I even went as far as keeping close tabs on mine, most males don’t, just so that you know. So shut the fuck up already.” Rocket growls feeling the ‘joke’ was wearing thin.

“I dunno, Rock. I’d still hate to be seen as that old fogy who doesn’t know when to let go and we’ve given the mantle forward already. I heard the Ravagers are disbanding too –old guard didn’t take too well on the news of Yondu’s death so they’re pretty much ripping their each other’s to pieces to see who the new boss is.” Peter sighs.

“Yeah, I suppose so and it gets even worse; there isn’t even a drop of booze for proper memory lane walk on this crutacking station –Dry dock indeed. So how long did you plan on staying this time Pete?” Rocket says looking rather downbeat.

“Not sure, couple of hours, a day at most and then I should get back to Hala with the Kree envoy but I probably shouldn’t be seen with you in the open so our enemy wouldn’t know I know and bolt into hiding, so I didn’t trust this to couriers or holo message either. It kind of was the point with all this spy stuff.”

“Pretty pointless if you ask me and as far as I know those holo projectors I built for the team have never been compromised besides my convoy already got targeted earlier today.”

“You were, by whom?” Peter asks surprised. “Anyway I broke mine some time ago and I couldn’t find anyone to fix it since it’s _your_ tech.”

“Hand it over and I’ll see if it’s salvageable.” Rocket says extending his palm over the table.

“It’s pretty shod, I think-“Peter comments heaping the broken communicator into Rockets palm.

“What the flark did you do with this, drove over it with tank tracks? I think I’ll just hand you a spare- these things are tough but you sure did a number on it.” Rocket asks with a frown starting to fiddle with the delicate inside electronics of the robust but still hopelessly broken projector.

“Blaster fire and 20-feet drop after- anyway it’s not important. So who attacked your convoy?”

“Heck if I know, probably your scumbag dad out for blood like you said, –Adomox’s been pushing daises for a decade now and I saw to that personally, Funzie ain’t got the balls for this even when paid double for it and that Slum lord-family boss from the Hub whom I swindled big time ages ago– that fucker’s son is cooling at Kyln too. I think we’ve pretty much outlived all who would really care to see us dead even that old prune jaw Thanos –while his not dead exactly his still out of the game for all parties concerned. In any case that strike certainly wasn’t the most militarily performed attack I’ve witnessed –biological nano-monsters launched from orbit on a court full of people. Someone competent would have either ordered me sniped on my balcony this morning or issued the hit with black market smart weapons.” Rocket replies looking up from the projector at his hands while deftly parting and separating it into useful and useless pieces without even looking.

“Yep, sounds something a sociopathic amateur tactician like dad –Knife might order.” Peter nods to Rocket's assertions.

“So any leads where to look for Knife, some good old fashioned bounty hunting might just be the thing to break this ennui I’ve been having? I assume you already took a detour at Kyln to make sure he isn’t still inside and being framed?” Rocket says looking at his coffee cup as if hoping he could turn the tar-like substance into Scot’s coffee by staring at it intently enough.

“Don’t worry Rock, he isn’t there and nobody’s impostering as him. My Nova informant said he escaped while being en-route from Kyln to Devlin-9 where he was supposed to serve his remaining life sentence now reduced to twenty.”

“Since when did you get transports out of Kyln unless being released which is the whole point of Kyln; you don’t get out except by being carried once you’re in unless Nova finds you innocent later.”

“I’ve no idea how his lawyers pulled it off but I hear it was some kind of legal technicality and his sentence was retroactively ‘lowered’ in essence he didn’t ‘deserve’ Kyln in the eyes of the Xandar law.”

“I’ve always said the Nova laws are way too pussy. That embarrassment to Zarnooks should have rotted in Kyln until the suns turn nova and the universe ends.” Rocket grumbles.

“Well, I’ve got a couple of ideas how to find him. I’ll check few leads when I get back to Hala and let you know then but right now I’ll need to get back to my own quarters and get some sleep or those Kree are going to leave without me in the morning.”

“Alright, keep me posted. Meanwhile I’ll see if I can trace those delivery canisters and follow the middle man and money back to their source.” Rocket promises.

Star-lord departed at the following day with the Kree, a new holo-projector in his possession just as he had been promised. Rocket was almost as sorry as Groot to see Peter’s visit end so soon unlike Rocket’s visit at the station; that visit he was all too happy to end as soon as possible and left the station within the hour after Star-lord's group had departed.

Not much had changed at Xarth while Rocket and Groot were away except the strike at the Terminal being on top of every news headline and Rocket was sure he would have drowned on the sea of journalists if he hadn’t had his escort and Groot with him pretty much at all times for the next couple of days. However Rocket wasn’t resting on his laurels while waiting for the reports from the Luminals, he also designed and installed a few new security measures around their suite between handling his office and making his own reports for the Senate and General staff. It was likely there would be more attempts later since he was still alive and kicking.

* * *

 

Peter would have preferred to stay longer but he knew the Kree weren’t going to negotiate with him about their timetable or share any information, not that he had any interest to share anything with them either. It had all been just for the convenience and paying favors after all, and thus the three men–Human-Spartoi and two Kree; spent their last voyage together mainly by staring sullenly at their each other’s when they had to leave their quarters and bump into one another before arriving to Hala. Never had Star-lord felt so happy to leave a spaceship when he finally could and took a taxi ferry to Supremor hotel at uptown Hala. If he was going to stay at Kree-lar he might as well do it in style and there was no place like Supremor Hala to do so. Right now he was going to get something stiff to drink and bounce a couple of ideas in his head.

 


	4. Threads

## Threads

## Ch 3

**Xarth cluster, Xarth binary system- planet 3, Beta-5 quadrant – Capitolus city, northern polar region.**

**Some days later**

**Rocket’s lab**  


One thing Rocket greatly appreciated about being the grand Admiral of Xarth was the definite wealth and respect that came with the lofty station and what could be better than spending some of this wealth to have a fully stocked research and engineering lab just for his own amusement right next to his apartment complex.

“I am Groot?” _So what are we going to do next, Rocket?_ Groot asks conversationally. Rocket looks up from the device he’d been working with to determine the origin of the nano weapons.

“Can’t do that much, really. The Luminals reported that the canisters were shot from a cloaked ship at the orbit and counter-intelligence has no reports of confirmed terrorist activity and long-range probe logs naturally show nothing because the ship was cloaked.” Rocket says clicking his claws irritably against the metal table.

“And just as I’ve figured; all the bio weapon-material is Kree-tech in origin albeit pretty archaic, almost too old as if- Hey, that’s it! –It’s old! Groot, you know what that means?” Rocket exclaims happily.

“I am Groot?” _No, not really but I guess you’ll tell me?_ Groot looks at his excited friend with interest.

“D’ast straight old tree, old buddy. It means that since this stuff is as old as Kree-Xandar war; and in that case there should be records where this particular type of crap was made, stored, and delivered before it got into wrong hands. Kree Empire may be full of autocratic pricks and Xandar’s equally full with obtuse bureaucrats but d’ast if it doesn’t mean their records are always in top order and the best part; one of the stipulations of the peace treaty was full disclosure of all military activity on both sides.”

“I am Groot?” _I thought they were classified for- Ooh I see what you did there._ He exclaims with an approving nod.

“Indeed, the classification has recently expired but I doubt that stuff is going to come in circulation at the Galactic-net just yet. I might even need to make the request in person at Xandar or Kree-lar and I vouch Xandar, they're less self-important than the Kree.”

“I am Groot?” _In person, why can't they just send in the requested files?_

“Because, like most of the stuff that’s considered too volatile for public at its time, it probably only exists in physical format to keep it more secure, and is probably still handed over only in need-to-know basis and Xandar’s open government laws be damned.

“I am Groo-t.” _So, we’re going for another space trip._ A _t leats Xandar looks nice at this time of year._ Groot sighs looking slightly pessimistic.

“Oh quit whining, man. Your garden plants will be just fine on their own for a couple of days. Trust me it’ll be fun.” Rocket promises cheerily.

* * *

 

Star-lord had spent the last three days talking and wetting the throats of low-life’s and high-life’s alike in hopes of hearing something useful. _It seems that I've finally hit something_ he thought; noticing two men shadowing him after he'd left the last bar he’d been asking around at. It was hard to say whose men they were but Peter had a pretty good head for situations like this and was fairly sure they would be working for people he had been trying to find.

He ducked into an alley-way which held another bar but he went past it fooling his shadowers into following him deeper into the alley ways. Kree-cops were notoriously vicious for street crime and Peter sure as hell didn’t want any outsiders seeing him flashing his gun at the men following him. He hastened his steps some while quietly dropping a tiny spidery camera robot to monitor his wake before slipping into shadows. Predictably the men hastened their steps considerably once he was out of their sight.

He waited for a bit in the shadows for them to make a move but what he didn’t expect was a third man emerging from the other end of the T-layout alleys running past Peter’s junction to meet the two others. He could see from the monitor-receiver at his wrist band that they debated about something, likely about him –it was his cue to disappear. Peter quickly sneaked out of the one-way alley end by climbing over the low wall. He was sure they knew by now that he hadn’t gone past them and would start backtracking. He still remained close-by monitoring the alley with his cam in hopes of having the three to lead him to their place. Sneaking a peek after them he snatched back his camera robot en-route from the alley and hurried after them.

“It’s all too easy”. Peter shook his head as he followed the men into dingy apartment complex.

The complex was a dilapidated seventy-storied project which suited all the better for Peter since these poor neighborhoods never had the upscale district's in-housing weapon dampening fields and automated on-call security systems. Peter grinned slightly as he pulled his signature element gun from holster and prepared to kick in the apartment door when he felt something cold against his neck. “Aww Krutack! They had a fourth guy.” Peter swears in his mind when a rather unassuming looking Kree woman snatches his gun away and escorts him in at gun point.

* * *

 

“You know I really am not sure if I should be happy or disappointed. Happy because you were this stupid and disappointed that the great Star-lord though we were this green.” The leader of the group said backhanding Peter across the face with a gloved hand.

Peter coiled from the hit but couldn’t move much to avoid it for being tied for questioning into a Dura steel chair with a pair of older than dirt, honest-to-god mechanical cuffs ***** and these guys didn't even realize they'd chained him with an expensive collector item. The cuffs bit and chafed irritatingly at his wrists adding to his discomfort. The thugs had tried to get him talking for a while now and Peter knew they would soon tire on light intimidation and would either get to ‘business’ with an electric drill-bit in order to find out what he knew or would drug him up to eyeballs and sell him to someone else for a good bit of cash. Such as illegal organ peddler –and no one hid a body like a black market dealer. He did have his share of old enemies after all and many of those had no calms in doing so.

“I know a couple of guys who’ll pay for this joker and we’ll get our answers while this frakk-head gets what is coming.” The guy who was the likely leader announced grabbing his comm device to make a few calls.

_Or they could do both._ Peter figureded morbidly. In any case it was time to get the flark out of here.

After about half an hour of pimp-slapping it was apparent that Peter wouldn’t be talking that easily at which point the four Kree-gang decided to get some noodle-takeaway while waiting contact from Peter’s many enemies to ‘buy’ him. Peter swooned in his chair faking dizziness while slipping a tiny lock pick into his palm from concealed sleeve pocket and slowly begun to feel the lock while his guards were distracted with eating. He couldn’t help but note his good luck in that they had done only cursory pat down and even left his jacket on him.

The cuffs let out an audible ‘ding’ as they snapped open.

“Hey-!” one of the men manages despite mouth full of spicy noodles before Peter clubs him unconscious with the chair. Next two men aren’t that much luckier when Peter’s back swing clips one on the forehead sending him sprawling with noodles flying while a good kick on the chair back of the crook in-front of Peter pins him painfully against the table, knocking the wind out of him. The woman reacts fast though; jumping out of the chair she grabs the nearest weapon from the side table –Peter’s element gun and points at him with it. She pulls the trigger in a moment’s haze and blue lightning flashes from the gun –snaking around her forearm and upper torso.

“Silly girl, I’d had thought people like you would recognize a signature gun.” Peter chides grabbing his gun from the twitching woman and trains it towards the three lamers at the table. He unceremoniously kicks the woman, who had been reaching at her boot knife while recovering at the floor, back to unconsciousness.

“But he’ll kill us if we do.” the leader of the group yelps.

“And I will if you don’t and he isn’t here, so better start rethinking your loyalties pall.” Peter snaps back. The thugs look at Peter and then their each other’s.

Peter left the apartment quietly whistling by himself at some old- 60’s earth tune as well as he might with a broken lip and a loose tooth. By the time those four would wake up again he’d be long gone and their mile-long rap sheets would guarantee that the merc friends Peter had called in to pick some free bounty would happily nab these four as well as take out the organ peddler-ring the boss guy had called in earlier, which meant killing two bird with one stone. Eventually this might not turn out as such bad gig after all.

Delan-3 was a bit far actually and he could use more friends and credits right about now in case of trouble (which was quite possible) and to fuel Milano enough for two way trip… Old gal hadn't been out for a spin for years and Rocket did say he needed a change of scenery, right? A _nd shut the flark up concience, its got nothing to do with him being loaded in both accounts._

* * *

“Yeah what’s up Pete? Rocket’s partial figure asks hovering an inch above the device in Peter’s palm.

“I got a lead Rocket; want to join in on the fun with Groot? One time offer only.”

“Are you flarking kidding me? Just pick us up. We’ll be waiting at Xarth but I’m not buying all the fuel for you, you cheapskate.”

"Sure, split it fifty-fifty, right? _"_ Quill sighed ending the call. _Bummer, how did he figure it out already?_

* * *

 

 

 

> _* Though most empires have long-since abandoned the use of purely mechanical cuffs and restraints in favor of more secure bio- and DNA-locking versions, one can still find them in use at less civilized planets, but only Kree, Skrull and Shi'ar made cuffs have actual collectors value due to them having phased those out several centuries prior lesser civilizations._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a bit short and not my best storytelling, but its still something.


	5. Fishing expedition

##  **Fishing expedition**

## Ch 4

**Milky Way galaxy**

**The seedy side**

 

”Damn it Quill. I can’t believe you’re still flying with this old rust bucket. I mean sure it’s nostalgic and all but come on this thing is like forty years old. Hell I’ve probably changed so many parts from it over the years that it isn’t even the same ship you once bought and Nova rebuilt anymore.” Rocket grumbles from the co-pilot seat while simultaneously making on-screen navigational calculations and adjusts the left wing thrusters to be more in-sync with the right wing. Quill never seemed to bother with re-counting the route though it saved drive matter as much as seven percent in the long run. He just bummed it out with half-optimal pre-sets. Quill was just so lazy at times.

“Come on man, this used to be our homeship for decades. It’s still the same old reliable Milano.” Peter counters noting Rocket doing the complex 4-space hyper route-calculus in moments which would have taken hours for him. This was the precise reason he had a huge library of prepared settings stored from over the years; one for each route he’d taken but Rocket loved to do things in the old way and count them himself.

“So was my grandpa’s axe which had its handle changed three times and the head twice. I could have borrowed any ship from Xarth no questions asked but you wanted your old hunk of junk. Same old Milano indeed and still lacking proper showers and decent sized quarters for five let alone 20.” Rocket snorts.

“Well Ha-ha, if you don’t like the ride, feel free to hop out anytime.” Peter says pointing indignantly at Rocket with his finger and flips the autopilot on before leaving the cockpit to sit down at the lounge area. Rocket applies the corrections he had calculated before following suit.

Peter sighs inaudibly and gets a bite to eat from the mess galley pantries. He wasn’t sure what to think of the _others_ Rocket had taken in for the ride –meaning some twenty or so hard eyed Xarthian mercenaries crowding the chairs and the crunchy green velvet sofa at the Milano’s communal area with Groot, tending weapons, playing cards around the round dinner table or taking naps in turns at pallets set below decks at the cargo bay. Oh Rocket had assured that they were reliable guys but Star-lord had seen enough mercenaries to know what he was dealing with and something was... off, they hadn’t even grumbled about their wages like every self-respecting mercenary did after a while. Sure they looked well trained and disciplined but something told him that these guys might have little in the way of actual frontline combat expertise, especially that young guy called Xan who kept craning his neck around the ship and everything else in wonder like he was a kid at amusement park. Peter shook his head focusing on the leader Jcaan, ignoring his men for now.

“So you guys all settled up? We should arrive to delan-3 within next 12-standard hours.”

“Yes Star-lord. The battle grou- Ahh I mean 'me boys' will be ready’hh, -yarr.” Keeping covers really wasn’t Jcaan’s forte and he couldn’t quite understand why the Grand admiral had insisted on this foolishness of playing at being mercenaries –stupid fake accents, unconventional weaponry, abolishing ranks for the time being, using inferior personal armors and all, plain foolish and inefficient in his books.

“Good, I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.” Peter says frowning a little at Jcaan’s slipping accent but figures to let Rocket hold his play for the time being _._

_Lord knows how Rocket just loves complications for complications sake despite claiming the opposite. Probably thought I would take advantage of it somehow –Rocket may be trustworthy but his never been very trusting_. Peter mused in privacy of his quarters before falling sound asleep.

“Sir, how long do we really need to keep up with this? I’m sure he already knows.” Jcaan mutters to Rocket watching Star-lord’s retreating back with a thoughtful expression.

“As long as he thinks you’re paid up and not directly designated under my command… Peter has a knack of taking an advantage from that for his own ends.” Rocket shrugs getting a mug of coffee from the kitchen cubicle/mess galley adjacent to the lounge area.

“I thought he was your longtime friend and ally, sir?” Jcaan wonders uncertainly.

“He is. He wouldn’t dare to even try manipulating us otherwise… Trust me on this, I’ve known him for near forty years –almost longer than the Guardians of the Galaxy have existed and gone through thick and thin with him but some things never change.”

Jcaan just nods in response, a soldier does not ask at least not too openly.

“I am Groot.” Groot sighs tiredly to Rocket.

“You stay out of this Groot. I can handle my affairs.” Rocket grumbles though not too unkindly.

* * *

**Orion cluster, Delan-system, planet 3, alpha-6 quadrant**

**The following day**

**Delan-3 geostationary Orbit**

 

Delan-3 didn’t really look like much to Rocket in his thoughts when he looked down at the more brown than green planet through the cockpit window. The Milano stuttered lightly in deceleration through the atmosphere before dropping smoothly on the tarmac landing platform kicking up a cloud of dust. The struts dip slightly before the ship re-adjusts to stand at level on its landing spot.

“And touchdown.” Star-lord says with an easy smile, releasing his restraints while Rocket kills the idling auxiliary engines and equalizes the cabin pressure to match outside atmospheric pressure via the co-pilot’s console before joining Star-lord to brief the others at the common area.

“Alright, here’s my part in the deal; I’m going to take a look around and the rest of you stay around the ship and restock it. Make sure to drink enough, its hot out there and even though the air is pretty decent to breath it's got a lot of oxygen so don't go sauntering off to wilds or bushes, there's some nasty insects and lizards here and I'd hate to collect your swooning asses from out of there.” Star-lord suggests elaborating with his hands as he goes over their daily plan at the common room table.

“Fuck no, Pete! I didn’t come this far to sit in the ship all day, besides its better to have more eyes spread around.” Rocket interjects heatedly.

“Look, I know you’re anxious to get out and stretch a bit Rocket but really man just look at yourself; you sure as hell aren’t inconspicuous by any stretch of the margin, no more so than Groot is. By now even _this_ backwater planet must have heard of you. And it’s your plan anyway and that plan called for not being too obvious.” Star-lord points out. For a moment it looks as if Rocket would like to argue against this point but finally gives in with a sigh.

“Fine, you’ll get your way Star-dork but here’s how we deviate; I’ll stay here with Groot and make the preflight check-ups, refuel and all that in-advance in case we need to take off in haste AND you ARE taking some of my mercs with you. Miijk, Obarth, Ebiex, Chixi and Pfiri, you’re going with Peter and Jcaan,Xoris, Jciin, Ord, Jkeen, Xarthax, Yeliz, Yuezh, X’berith, Xan and Dibar are staying with me. No shutting off the coms or deviation from the plan just because you’re doing something questionable which you don’t want me to know or think your way is so much better.” Rocket declares adamantly which is how Peter leaves the ship and ends up sitting in a dingy bar with five of Rocket’s men in tow whether he liked it or not.

* * *

 

“Right then, I’ve got some maintenance work to do here, so you guys can handle the resupply while Groot helps me with repairs and watches the ship coms while I’m crawling inside the engine or hull spaces.” Rocket tells Jcaan and hands him the list of needed items.

“Alright Sir it shouldn’t take more than an hour assuming we can find all this down at the market.” Jcaan nods eyeing the list before showing it to his ‘boys’. They view the list shortly and hand it back before nodding and leaving the ship with Jcaan while Rocket leaves to change into his comfy but old fashioned orange coverall which was more fitting for dirty work and repairing than his combat armor or Guardian uniforms.

Groot man’s the com-station at the cockpit to alert Rocket if there’s any trouble brewing or a call is in-coming.  
  
“I am Groot.” _Call if you need me Rocket._ The eight foot tall tree-man says and would have shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly if he'd been able to.

* * *

 

Frayed neon signs proudly and rather aptly named the trite-looking bar in front of Peter as _The local corner_ ; it seemed like the place to attract discerning customers- discerning as in non-too careful with whom they associated with as long the person had the cash and was willing to spend some.

“Okay guys pick a table. You ok with Shi’ar brewery classic ale?” Star-lord asks from the men assigned to him when they enter the half empty bar. It was still late morning at the planet and most regular patrons probably wouldn’t be around until noon at the earliest, he surmised.

“Beer’s fine.” Miijkanswers in behalf of his mates when they crowd an empty booth next to a wall not too near or far from the entrance. Star-lord rejoins them soon carrying six bottles of beer.

“Okay, I don’t think we’ll find anyone worth talking to around here before noon… So you guys play cards?” Star-lord asks whipping up a deck of Kree-styled 56-card deck and plants it in the middle of the table with an easy smile –a perennial favorite among most mercenary groups in the galaxy. The others look warily at Star-lord and mutter slightly to one another before shrugging and setting aside their guns, jackets and possessions in a muted clatter of creaking chairs and equipment as each man eased into his seating. _It’s not like we have anything else to do while waiting and a couple of rounds surely won’t hurt anyone, right?_ Peter thinks while shuffling the deck in plain view and this time he wouldn’t even bother to cheat.

* * *

“So you’re telling me that Star-lord –The former prince of Spartax is here with a handful of mercenary looking Xarthians, drinking beer and playing cards at the Local corner? Why the hell would he be here of all the places. This isn’t exactly the hotspot of activity… There’s not even a Nova bounty officer at this stinking planetary system.” Which was the precise reason Lexor; a mid-aged Xandarian by nationality but not race who was also a business man by hobby and local criminal overlord by trade; had chosen its only habitable planet to be the location of his current office.

“Well, yeah boss. The barkeep –Gand says they’re just sitting around and playing cards and drinking beer. A huge thuggish pink skinned Krylorean said.

“Gand isn’t the smartest tool in the shed but he does have an eye for this kind of thing. Jo-ree –Take a dozen boys with you and keep an eye on them. I doubt that meddlesome Krutack is here for the scenery alone. I’m pretty sure some those dimwits I hired at Kree-lar to keep an eye on my assets have squealed. Let’s just hope he didn’t bring any of the Nova or his Guardian friends with him.”

“Gand was sure none of those other guys match any pics or descriptions that's been put out, said they actually looked pretty green for merc’s. He thinks they may’ve been kicked from the Xarth’s army recently. ” Jo-ree comments dryly.

“Green eh, But trained? Xarthians -kinda far from home even for a mercenary group. You know what, take twenty and bring the whole lot here. Kill as many as you see fit except Star-lord, those others are probably just hired muscle and security anyway and won’t know anything useful. Nova doesn’t recruit from Xarth.” Lexor says rubbing at the stubble in his chin with his knuckles. They were about done at this planet anyway so offing Star-lord shouldn’t inconvenience or jeopardize anything in the long run but it would be an asset to verify if he had been sent to snoop after him.

* * *

Holy flark! Rocket’s plan was already working if not quite like a charm; Peter thought when he noticed those twenty, armed with anything-you-dare-to-carry-in-public-as-a-weapon, “patrons” walking in and fanning around the bar in oh so casual manner like they owned the place. One of them especially called his eye, a thuggish brute of a Krylorean who was so wide and ripped that his head looked almost too small for his gargantuan body. Even though the thug wasn’t openly armed Peter easily spotted some kind of handle poking through the hem at the waistline under the brute’s loose tank top-shirt and sleeveless leather vest. Probably a modified ripper-bolt pistol or flechette gun Peter assumed from experience, it looked too small for a bolter gun. While many of the thugs brandished knives or clubs openly and some seemed unarmed, a trained eye could still spot concealed firearms hidden with all of them. These guys were trouble with a capital T as sure as Rocket had a ringed tail.

“Keep playing like nothing’s happening guys, they’ll make an approach eventually.” Star-lord said to his ‘boys’ who were tensing up already. They all looked at him with a frown before relaxing and retreating back to their seats. Peter wasn’t too surprised to learn that the huge Krylorean was the leader of the posse when the brute approached their table and announced that ‘da boss would like a word with ya all’. Peter felt it best to reach inside his pocket under the table to push the alarm button in his comm. He wasn’t going to let their guys get killed or taken hostage for nothing and twenty to six were in no way favorable odds in a bar room brawl and even less so when it involved guns.

“So flarking what, tell him to book the time like everybody else. I’m on my r&r with friends here.” He says turning himself around in his chair to regard the hulking pink brute properly and flashes his most insolent winning smile. Something about this Krylorean had immediately rubbed Peter the wrong way.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” The Krylorean grunts heaving Peter up from the chair by his shirt collar with just one hand before smashing him against the table which breaks and topples over under his weight scattering cards and beer all over. Both the five Xarthians around the table and the thugs around the bar reach for their weapons while the common patrons begin to fan out through the door rather quickly. The barkeep and waitresses also perform their best vanishing acts at this moment of obvious gunfight. It took but a few moments but in those moments Star-lord realized that _the handle_ under the Kryloreans shirt wasn’t a gun at all but a grenade handle –a stun grenade handle to be exact. His last moment while conscious before the grenade went off after bouncing momentarily amids the broken table was spent in self-contemplation of how much it was going to hurt to wake up.

His world turned from white hot to ink black.

* * *

“I am Groot!” _We’ve got trouble Rocket!_ Groot yells loudly when the comm begins to flash and beep audibly.

“-Aww, son of a flarking slag!-” Rocket’s pained reply carries from the bowels of the ship before he hurriedly rushes up to the cockpit to stand at his friends side holding his head in pained manner. A sizeable lump was forming just above Rocket’s eyeline at his right temple.

"Give a man a warning next time you dolt!" Rocket curses massaging the bruise.

"I am Groot" _I didn't choose the timing, Peter did._

"The flark his gotten into now?" Rocket mutters superimposing Peter’s comm signal coordinates on the city map in one of the many comm console holo-screens he was summoning up and closing out with a flick of his wrist as required.

"A bar? We'll that figures." Rocket huffs hiding his worry under sarcasm.

“Jcaan, we’ve got flarking trouble. Check the bar at these coord’s- The Local corner. Pete and boys got into jam! I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Rocket opened to the comms alerting his men of the situation.

“We’re on our way; I’m sending the supplies we already bought back to ship now.” Jcaan replies briskly and from the way he puffed while speaking he was likely already running. _Good man_ Rocket thought shutting the comm and already running to grab his current favorite guns from the rack at the ship armory before heading out with Groot.


	6. What’s cooking doc?

##  **What’s cooking doc?**

## Ch 5

**Still at Delan-3**

 

“Alright so what have we got up against us Jcaan?” Rocket asks hopping down from Groot’s shoulder. He quickly peeks inside the deserted and ransacked bar knowing they had little time left; his keen ears could already pick a klaxon from the local peacekeepers approaching.

“We were too late. They were gone by the time we got here and even the bartenders took off so we’ve no one left to question and we can’t trace their comm links. They may have gained as much as half a standard hour ahead of us.” lugubrious Jcaanassesses.

“Well you’re forgetting something… Comms may be dead but I happen to possess a keen sense of smell and though it’s not what it used to be; Quill likes his cheap aftershave –a lot, which helps.” Rocket reassures and for once pushes aside his usual internal protests of being seen as animalistic in any shape or form. “Let’s move; the peacekeepers are coming.”

“Aftershave sir?” Jcaan asks confused and it takes a moment for Rocket to recall that for some odd reason most species apart from Kree, Spartoi and Terrans never or only very rarely needed to shave and some even found the whole idea of removing facial or any other body hair as completely off-putting. Rocket certainly did.

 –“Yeah, he does it about twice a day and uses plenty of creams and special pungent smelling Terran ointments to help during and after shaving. Besides they’re a big group which makes it easier to scent despite you Xarthians having barely any bodily scent at all.” Rocket explains sniffing around a bit more in all fours outside the bar before nodding to himself.

“So it’s not a normal thing for a Terran to smell like the way he does?” Jcaan asks sounding slightly surprised as he waves for his men to follow Rocket.

“Frakk no, man. They usually smell more or less of what they’ve eaten for the past 4h or so but they prefer to hide it under all kinds of artificial scents. –anyway it’s not important.”

* * *

 

“This looks like our place. Plenty of workers –I counted twenty or so all together, and not one of them are doing anything but strutting about.” Rocket says reeling from peeking behind the corner with a small hinged telescopic mirror; he normally uses it to peek into hard to see places while doing engine repairs. Spying now at the suspicious large warehouse adjoined to a small bunker like structure and a private Launchpad with a small cruise jet.

“Sounds about right. So what’s the plan? Storm the buildings and mow them down? We certainly have enough men to do so if we do it by surprise.” Jcaan surmises with a deep frown.

“I’d rather not even when it’s clearly the only option, too many variables and they’ve got mainly blasters but if they get a wind of us too soon their bosses may run off with that jet. Blaster noise attracts too much attention especially in this flyspeck of a port. Give me a sec to figure us a proper plan.” Rocket then crouches down on his knees to draw on the dry sand with his index claw the Xarthians and Groot huddling around him into a circle.

* * *

Messing up the jet and taking the guards down with quiet surprise had been the most pressing issue which they had solved by scattering to attack from all sides at the same time with guns set on stun-range. Jet they had to leave alone as there was no way to get close enough unseen, normally Rocket would have placed a few guys as spotters to eliminate the thing at the right moment but he was too low on men already. Simple and up to point was the key like in all plans Rocket cared to actually put his mind into… Rocket had long since given up on opposing the popular opinion of his plans being overly complex, they weren’t complex but the added subterfuges often were. He didn’t mind people seeing how his battle tactics worked but he loathed to let people know the full strategies from which his victorious tactics evolved. He would lead the first team and Jcaan the second, they would both enter the building as soon as the enemy bodies would hit the floor at the pier… There was no point in tying them up. Just stun and run since lower setting made less noise than full kill-shots and they couldn’t properly care for prisoners and had zero interest in dealing with possible multiple accidental homicide-by-negligence/excessive force charges from Nova later on.

“Come in team two? We’ve cleared the front and are entering the warehouse.” Rocket announced to his comms when the last guard at the warehouse’s docking pier collapsed.

“In position! Going in on one-two-…!” Came the reply.

“Let’s go! On my mark…” Rocket’s team piles next to the door before Rocket kicks it in and does a barrel roll leap inside to avoid any possible gunfire. The team rolls in after him with Groot taking the rear. To their small surprise there are only a few startled guards present which are quickly taken care of. Perforated boxes with metal mesh doors are stacked up at shelves in three rows to line the area dividing the open space into hallways of a sort. Animal cages with small label in each, many dozens of them with some grey-brown furry bandit-masked animals chirping inside… They all; both the beasts and the invaders blink in surprise.

“What up with all the Me’s in here?” Rocket speaks out everyone’s unvoiced question as they fan out to cover the exits.

“I am Groot?” Groot iterates trying to be helpful.

“I know what they are for, just not for what kind of testing or why… - _My 'cousin' species_. I mean it feels awfully specific.” Rocket replies without being able to take his eyes off from the little beasts. He had a strangely disjointed feeling; deep down he knew exactly what they were chirping and emoting about BUT his rational side couldn’t help remarking the _autistic_ tone those eyes and voices had. It was like watching himself through some weirdly distorted mirror; dozens of mirrors. Rocket is shaken off from his reverie with a shudder and reminder that he had more urgent things to do when the second biggest Krylorean Rocket has ever seen walks in from the small office door at the back wall that was directly opposite Rocket along the “hallway” the rows of stacked up cages formed, carrying what seemed like a huge bag of pet feed. His pinkish body was so massive that he literally wriggled sideways through the narrow office door with the bag and it seemed to Rocket that some weird accident must have shrunken the guys head.

“How did you get out of your cage?” The hulking brute asks rhetorically from Rocket in a moment of mutual astonishment before both parties explode into action; Rocket whips out his collapsible ion cannon and the weaponless brute drops the bag he had been carrying and desperately tries to backpedal and cram himself back inside the door, nearly ending up wearing the door and its frames as a necklace in his panic before Rocket’s unfeasibly large gun evaporates almost half of the Krylorean’s massive chest as loud wheezing sounds of hypersonic ion matter being released reverberate across the halls.

“I am Groot.” Groot grumbled pulling the massive body away by the legs from blocking the door which leaves very noticeable blood smears on the concrete floor.

“Well it’s not like we’d have much of a surprise anyway at this point…” Rocket needlessly points out as an alarm begins to blare and the caged animals start to chirp and squeak in fright.

* * *

“I’m telling you, you stupid Zarnook! I’ve no idea who the frakk he is.” The whip cracks again. “–GAAHH! You d’ast fracked gecko!” His tormentor cups panting Peter’s head into his palm momentarily regarding him up close. “I don’t really care either way… Take him down and chain back to wall; I’ll be back later after I’ve seen those other ones anew.” Peter only sighs too tired and aching to really even register the rather brutal way his being manhandled and retained by the guards.

Peter slowly wakes up in his cell unsure of how much time had passed focusing his senses to the easily identifiable high pitched pulsing wheeze and lifts his head up and smiles. There was only one person whom he knew to be able to reliably modify an Ion cannon without having it blow up on his face.

 _I'm so getting out of this dump and when I do a certain Badoon is going to get his whip up in his sakonnet –sideways._ Yep he was leaving soon, Peter thought as the alarm begins to blare in earnest. Suddenly a group of guards rush by his cell and just as quickly a welcome sight of very familiar mercs are driving them back in a hail of gunfire.

* * *

Lexor was not a happy camper jumping up from his chair and grabbing a hefty laser pistol from the office drawer when the alarm begins to blare.

“Koos, check the hallway, if it’s Nova we split this planet.” The big Shi’ar nods to his boss opening the door a fraction to peek at the hall outside before walking out and closing the door after. Lexor waited a moment before flipping over a painting at the wall that hid his wall safe. He grabbed the cash, good chunk of prewired explosives and shuttle launch keys from inside before leaving the office.

Koos didn’t really matter to him but what mattered was the fact that the damn main frame containing all his business and contacts for the past five years wouldn’t get into Nova hands, the papers at his office were inconsequential without accompanying data from the mainframes. He frowned and jumped a bit, hearing a scream and some sort of gun going off not too far away. D’ast he’d need to be fast with the bomb, these people weren’t kidding it seemed and he had played right in to their lap by nabbing Star-lord.

* * *

 _Second team here! We’ve secured Star-lord and the others largely unharmed_. Rocket was happy about the announcement at his Comms but he knew they were on a clock and reunions would have to wait. _There’s always a boss in an operation like this and d’ast if I’m going to let him get away_. Rocket thought as he raced along the hall, already ahead of the others. He didn’t know who that one Shi’ar guy had been whom he’d taken out a minute ago but he didn’t seem like anyone important to Rocket. _Though better dressed than the rest; probably some trusted man. Oh well his dead now, but where’s that krutacking boss or the fracking office for that matter?_ Rocket turns a corner noticing a promising door at the left. He kicks the door open into empty office, swearing like a Shi’ar pirate under his breath when he notices the emptied safe.

“Sir, we’ve got more than just those animals in cages here. There are some dozen women and half a dozen men too, well boys and girls really. Think this is a slaver ring?” Jcaan informs with a clear distaste in his voice.

“Guys, grab everything including those animals and get the flark out ‘a here, but put half a team to screen the rest of this place and then grab all the paper files from the office.” Rocket orders and abandons the idea of fully going through the folders he'd been rifling through. He started running as fast as he could Instead to reach the main server room. _Smart, the d’ast glavnar must have only some of these on paper. Impossible to hack all and just as troublesome to nick…_ Rocket curses running along the hallway gritting his teeth in frustration until he notices the sign computer terminals on the door.

The door was locked, not that it had ever stopped Rocket as he expertly picks the flimsy lock and enters the room. Upon entering he could smell something familiar in the near sterile air of the server room –no not silicon chips, the ozone or the metallic scent of wiring inside the mainframes. Explosives, The D’astard had set the room to explode! _Well it sure is faster that erasing thousands of terabytes of info_. Rocket thought as he examined the big lump of waxy polymer and electronics which he instantly knew to be something he’d likely have no time to dismantle. The bombs mechanic wasn’t of the latest fad design but it was still one of those overly complex tamper proofs, yet the biggest problem was that it had no friggin’ visible timer! If he moved the thing it might explode prematurely and if he didn’t it still might… No _it would_ and if he was lucky he had two to three minutes left assuming this thing was set and left on factory standard seven min. timer. Rocket mutters a few choice curses breaking open the quantum computer casings and starts piling as many of the memory banks as he dares in to satchel he was carrying, not caring how the violent dismantle would damage them before legging it just in the nick of time before the whole room explodes in a brilliant white light and deafening roar which sets the computer room and adjoining hallway on fire as a result.

“Okay let’s hustle! Forget finding that boss, we got to move now!” Rocket yells helping his men load up the last of the files into sacks for carry before they dart out from the burning building and load up into one of the dummy corporation's transport land crafts. Rocket grabs the controls expertly; steering them out before the fire brigades and peacekeepers arrive on site. _Oh well, I sure as hell wasn’t coming back here for the next two decades anyway… thank the heavens their emergency response time sucks._

* * *

Peter was laying at one of the cots that had been set at the cargo deck floor to perform as a makeshift infirmary after their brief battle with the criminals, even though the lowest deck was already quite full with two hundred half-wild raccoons rustling in their pens and 18 freed illegally itinerated servants or slaves as most cultures would have called them. Rocket was sitting next to Peter’s head by his cot.

“Oh frack, Pete. We really have to stop seeing our each other’s in this way.”

“No shit fuzzy, it’s getting bad for my health.”

“So you’re gonna be okay then?”

“Yeah, just a couple of scrapes and cuts, your medic guy Dibar, thinks my infirmness is mostly from the concussion grenade. That crusty gecko hadn’t had the time to really work his ‘magic’ on me yet.” Star-lord belittles.

Rocket thought for a moment if he should tell Peter what he had found from the files they had secured but decides against divulging it fully. It wasn’t something Peter needed to worry right now. “I called Rhoman Dey and made a few quick hacks into Nova databases about these jerks we beat the flark out off. There wasn’t much; it seems that aside slave trade they’re just some local mob working for hire to someone else.”

“Love the way you drop _hack_ and _Nova databases_ into same phrase so casually Rocky.” Star-lord smirks but his amusement turns to lop-sided sneer of pain when his about to laugh.

“Take a few man; you’ve got two broken ribs. Now rest a bit and come see me when you’re feeling better, I need to speak with you about a couple of things and I’m not talking about the unloading of these people and those… other beings to Nova’s care.” Rocket throws a bottle of painkillers on Star-lords lap clearly avoiding the topic about the possible significance of the elephants or in this case raccoons in the room.

“Is that a thing now?” Star-lord smiles in response.

“Only if you make it into one.” Rocket snorts leaving Peter to rest and recover before their approximated arrival to Xandar in eight hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short transition chapter. I actually have a sort of plot for this thing somewhere... You'll see.


	7. Maxims and arrows

## Maxims and arrows

## Ch 6

 

“Quill is going to be fine, Groot.” Rocket told Groot while changing to his old black lightly armored guardian uniform with the team insignia at the chest, at their old room. Amazingly the black one-piece suit still fit fairly well despite Rocket having developed a bit of pouch over the years. It was actually even more amazing that everything in his room had been just as he had left them all those years ago, which had made Rocket suspect that Quill had in fact kept the ship in storage all the intervening years and had taken it out only for special occasions before now.

“I am Groot _?” I didn’t figure you to be so nostalgic Rocket._

“It just felt right, you know… We’re onboard the Milano again and-“. Rocket is cut off by the automated notice chiming that he has his prescheduled work shift at the ship control-duty incoming. “-well flark me!” he mutters unhappily. Despite all the years of listening it he still hated the ship computer’s artificially chirpy voice.

"I am Groot?" _Aren't you goin to answer it, Rocket? It might be improtant, it's from Xarth_. Groot inquires when Rocket seems perfectly fine with letting the call lapse.

"I'll take it at the helm, it's where I'm supposed to be at anyway." Rocket waves dismissively.

* * *

Rocket accepts the incoming message from Xarth at the cockpit directing it to his earpiece for privacy. He had left strict instructions to his staff about when to be contacted before leaving and was glad to be sitting at the pilot’s chair upon hearing the message when his head fell against the back rest with an audible thud.

He played the message twice more to be sure, each time looking more and more agitated.

_Grand admiral Rocket the Raccoon. The senate high council of military affairs has deemed your advanced age and multiple injuries in the line-of-duty as great liability for operative duty and with the recent attempt of assassination also as too vulnerable to hold the active position of Grand Admiral and thus it has been decreed that to ensure your wellbeing you will be allotted with a newly constituted rank of counseling naval officer in-chief to lessen the visibility and attractiveness of your person as a political and military target. The council will jointly handle your office until you return sir, before voting for the new Grand Admiral. We will expect your return from your leave within two standard weeks from sending this missive to cast your vote and speak in behalf of your own favorite candidate. the Republic of Xarth wishes to receive your resignation in one week after public announcement and to accept your new office and rank. The council also would like to thank you for your faithful and impeccable service to Xarth with a special honorary 25th anniversary commemorative medal._

 

 _In other words those flarking Krutacks just relieved me from any Fracking active duty and flipping command in exchange for some worthless frozen post desk job which gets axed in a few years on the line because of budget cuts_. Rocket cursed and chuffed under his breath feeling indignant and anger rising.

“I’ll show you where you can shove that flarking trinket, you d’astards… I’ll frackin’ pin it on your tiny hairy gloonards! Think you can just shove me aside like I’m some old codger“. Rocket fumes openly furious and cuts the looped feed by hitting the switch with his fist rather than finger, ripping the ear piece from his ear.

"Frakk this flark. I need a drink." Rocket mutters deciding it's better to get himself decidedly drunk and avoid doing that other thing he’d love to do right now but would later regret; such as flying the Milano straight back to Xarth-3 and blowing several dozen holes in the military council members torso’ with his ion cannon or ***** harming himself in some other ways.

Rocket rummaged through the cabinets at the galley until he found what he was looking for and pulled out a large cardboard box sent from Terra from under the kitchen sink cabinet. The box felt heavy and clinked promisingly when Rocket carried it into his room. He noted that Groot was gone which was just the way he liked it and closed the door and opened the box full of finest Scotch single malt whiskey and lifted out the first bottle pulling out the natural cork with his teeth.

"Hello brown wonder sauce, my old friend. Won't you come in?" Rocket sighed lifting the bottle to lips and took a nice long swig straight from the bottle mouth.

Which was the condition in which Peter, Groot and the Xarthians found him at his room when they came looking since there was nobody at the helm while the ship was on autopilot without supervisor at one of the sector’s busiest space turnpikes.

Judging by his unconscious sate and the empty bottles at the bedside Rocket had gobbled down almost half a gallon of Quill’s Terran whiskey. An amount Peter would have once believed impossible for Rocket to consume and still live. He had learned differently ages ago; before detox Rocket had drank almost as much in a normal evening at least once a week.

“Okay Rocky what’s going on now? Someone close to you died or what? I don’t recall seeing you drinking like that since… since before Groot finally dragged you into detox.” Peter wondered concern visible at his face clear as day. It was just incredible how effective sober-past™ pills were, so instead of stomach pump they had forced Rocket to take just two about 15mins ago and he was already able to speak coherently despite having the signs of massive stomach cramps for drinking huge amounts of liquid so fast.

“I, I’ve been demoted, kicked out. Twenty-five cycles for nothing… Figured I might as well get wasted fer' good, flark Xarth, flark the Xarth Navy I helped rebuild from scratch and flark my life.” Rocket finally admits with a hefty dose of self-pity and a good bit of sniffling which ends at him puking his stomachs contents into wastepaper basket Peter quickly brings to bear.

“I am… Groot.” I _wish there was something I could do Rocket. I know this just… sucks hairy gloonards but you can’t drink like that anymore and you know it, not even with your enhanced system. Have you forgotten what it has already done to you?_

Rocket swipes his mouth into back of his arm and gives an apologetic glare at Groot. Not all of his shakes were from neural degeneration due to ****** extensive cybernetics; some of it was purely from self-medicating his night terrors and PSTD with alcohol, one of the few common analgesic chemical groups his anti-chemical warfare enhancements allowed his body to absorb as-is instead of straight-up filtering out or neutralizing their potency.

“Aw crap man, that’s not good. So what did they actually state as their reasons?” Peter asks not quite believing that anyone would tell an astonishing strategist and proven commander like Rocket just to take a hike from command without a good reason.

“It’s in my personal folder Pete, code Delta-fox 89 dash P13. Look for ye’ self.” Rocket instructs pointing at the screen mounted on the wall while staring at his feet, tail flopping and ears flat in defeat. Quill’s eyebrows rose in surprise at Rocket’s openness but he doesn’t comment and focuses on the screen, displaying the message that had made Rocket so upset.

* * *

 

 _No wonder Rocket is so livid at the news, especially when he probably wanted a frakkin’ fleet of destroyers to level down the defenses at the slavers hideout. Suddenly all his got are some two dozen soldiers who technically aren’t even supposed to heed his command anymore and one rusty tub of a ship and a token office. Well Milano is no tub and hasn’t a speck of rust but I’d be flarking flarnak too for being forced to buy the farm if I were him._ Peter thinks nodding politely in the right places only half listening at sobering Rocket rave about injustices being done to him at life before saying anything.

“Just forget that crap for now Rocky and think, we’ve got two weeks to get this thing sorted out, okay?”

Rocket glares daggers at Peter for a moment before drawing a shuddering breath.

“I know but I just- I was just so pissed I couldn’t think straight and felt like murdering something but all I had at hand to murder were your booze and my brain cells…"

"Yeah well, it's never really solved anything." Peter nods understanding and sits down next to Rocket at the edge of the bed.

"Anyway the slaver shipments were being sent to Thesopia cluster where their real boss is possibly hiding but we still don’t have enough men to storm the place if it really is a home base for even small to midsized criminal syndicate. The files gave nothing really useful on that just the money and material transfers between Delan-3 and Thesopia cluster.” Rocket huffs, flushed tired and deflated from his flash binge of whiskey now that sober-past's effects were starting to wane and his mods were kicking-in having detected the drugs in his system.

“I –ah, me and the boys would like to stay if that’s alright with you Grand Admiral Rocket.” Jcaan says stepping closer and emphasizing the title and looking clearly uncomfortable about the recent news.

“Well, sure but I don’t think it’s my call anymore. Frakk! I don’t call anything anymore. You would have probably been ordered to arrest me on sight if I’d had borrowed us a ship from the fleet like I was going to.” Rocket sighs waving dismissively with his gauntleted hand.

“With all due respect sir, we were ordered to see for your safety and I’d do it even when it would break my orders.” Jcaan huffed his back stiffening noticeably.

“I guess I should say thanks then?” Rocket mumbles feeling humbled while Peter merely smirks in amusement.

 

 

>  
> 
> ***** It was something Rocket had never told anyone not even to Groot. How could he? They had always assumed it had to do with his phenomenal willpower, a small lie too sweet to let go. Being able to choose your life and ultimately death was one of the fundamental tenets of free will and having only half of it had always made him feel less, like a pet, a plaything at its makers mercy with only as much leash as they alone allowed. To do intentional harm to himself; he'd tried it soon after recovering from escape from Halfworld when his still raw implants had caused such pain that he'd barely been able to move and do nothing but curl into ball and whimper for days after his escapade without rest or recover but his _creators_ had been foresighted enough to see an _unacceptable self-termination_ as a possibility and prevented it. To this day Rocket wasn't quite sure what they had done to make it so but they had; being as smart as he was Rocket had long since _mapped_ the limits of his _block_ and routed the ways to dance around it if he'd ever had the need. The key was that it would always require an assistant.
> 
> ****** By definition Cybernetic and bionic replacements and enhancements are mechanical and unchanging beyond set parameters but one's nervous system and body isn't and it is this difference between living and non-living which causes severe problems as the patient ages. Only in recent years have most of these problems with cybernetics been successfully solved.

 


	8. Visiting Xandar

## Visiting Xandar

## Ch 7

**Xandar cluster, Xandar system- planet 3, Delta-6 quadrant – Nova corps HQ**

**8h later**

 

Unsurprisingly the various Zoos around planet Xandar and its capital were quite happy to add one of the perennial favorite exotic extraterrestrial animals to their collection and Rocket was almost irked that Groot had spoken him out from asking payment for each donated animal. Considering how well those plushes of him and the other Guardians were still selling, those Zoos would have paid quite well for a couple of ‘live Rockets’. Centurion Dey’s assistant can’t help but raise a very questioning eyebrow at their ‘haul’. It wasn’t every day that you took in some 15 dozen or so Terran beasts and thirty odd ex-slaves for asylum at the same time.

“You’re making me soft as Quill, Groot. I’m losing a lot of perfectly good units because of you.” Rocket grumbled while some of the last animals were being carried away to their new homes and the ex-slaves were being led to their temporal accommodations before being interviewed and sent home if they had one left. Rocket had decided on keeping at least one of the animals with him and to offer the rest to Zoos at Xarth and maybe even at Procyon. _That should get those uptight xenophobes panties in a wad._ He thought with some amusement.

“I am Groot”. _Keep saying it to yourself, you old softie._ Groot chides in friendly manner.

“Aww shut up.” Rocket grunts and quickens his pace a little to keep up with the Nova officer escorting them through the colossal Nova HQ. It doesn’t take too long for them to be escorted to Dey’s office at the fifteenth floor.

"Grand Admiral *Rocket The Raccoon and Groot, a pleasure to be seeing you again."

"I am Groot" Groot replies politely to which Rhomann nods in kind.

“Rocket’s Fine Rhomann. It’s not like we haven’t been acquainted for decades. Anyway I’m not here on any official business. It was more like just a happenstance.”

“You just ‘happened’ on a group of slavers?” Dey echoes quirking an incredulous eyebrow at the statement and continues. “So what are you going to do next Grand Admiral Rocket?” Rhomann Dey finishes in polite but firm tone appropriate to his station as a centurion.

“Well, actually Star-lord happened… We were doing another sort of inquiry at Delan-3 and ran into them, speaking of which; you wouldn’t know anything about their boss Lexor?”

“As a matter of fact I do… A patrol caught a shady Arquan business man, a Xandar citizen called Lexor Lem, just yesterday. He had an outstanding warrant for questioning about interplanetary tax evasions and we were just about to let him walk because it was just an inquiry.”

“Well how about that! I just so happen to have most of his business records with me. You interested in a trade Dey?” Rocket offers slyly and Dey brightens visibly.

“Rocket! You sneaky little git.” Dey can’t help but chuckle in amusement. “Alright, what do you need from Nova Rocket?”

Rocket throws the bag of memory chips on the table and begins to grin as he explain his needs in length while Groot settles down into floor.

* * *

"Well you've always played double or nothing Rocket and it's been double surprisingly often with you Guardians of the Galaxy." Dey muses leaning back on his chair hands crossed over his belly while he is contemplating on Rockets request.

"what can I say, I lead a charmed existence." Rocket shrugs politely.

"Charmed or not but we really do want Knife, he destroyed the whole convoy upon his escape. If you can deliver him..."

"You bet your ass I will Dey! The Krutack's already frackin' with me and you know I ain't tolerating that shit from nobody and especially not from some has-been purdy jailbird like J'son!" Rocket responds with an angry snarl.

"I am Groot!" Groot huffs at Rocket with a slightly annoyed expression and Rocket has the decency to look ashamed.

"That's alright, I don't like that guy either and off the record -I was against his release from Kyln." Dey says waving his hands disarmingly. "I'll assign Denarian Windholme as your liaison, she's a good officer and I think you'll get along nicely. Notify the Nova core when you're about to embark Rocket, they'll be on stand-by for you." Dey finishes tapping something on the screen by the desk before pushing a data chip across the tabletop which Rocket quickly grasps and places into his data pad.

"Thanks Rhomann, I'll owe you one!" Rocket thanks enthusiastically as he leaves the office with Groot.

Dey sighed tiredly after the door closed. _it wasn't that he didn't like to trust Rocket & Groot or the Guardians but these request really should have gone through official channels. He could only hope the operation to be a success, otherwise Nova Prime would chew his ass for lunch._

* * *

**Alpha-6 quadrant uncharted sectors – At the back of a leviathan beast.**

J’son studied the holographic map displays and stroked his beard in thought. _All pieces were coming to place. Even his idiot of a son had managed to stay away. If only that fool Torgon would get his crap together already. There was no way in hell he could wrestle back the control of Spartax unless he got dreadnoughts from Torgon and Torgon would never get them if that miserable rodent was in charge of Xarth's navy._ His musing is disrupted by an incoming call from Delan-3. J’son frowns remembering he has a procurer there, not a very good one but beggars couldn’t be choosy.

“Boss, The whole place’s been laid flat and there’s no sign of the Arquan Lexor.”

“Really?” J’son comments dangerously.

“Yeah, locals say it was raided by some kind a mercenary group, I bet it was a Nova covert sting.”

“Well they hate slavers… So what about my animals did you find out what happened to them?”

“No sir, they took most everything with them.”

“Put 10K bounty on Lexor Lem –alive. I need that Arquan fool found for talking and get me another batch of those damn animals.”

“Yes, sir.”

_Argh, this was the kind of crap sure to get his migraine flare_. J’son sighed pinching his nasal bridge already feeling an episode incoming but at least this old base was restored and almost ready for use.

* * *

Rocket was sitting at a café with Groot perusing through the files he’d gained from Nova Centurion Dey along with the promise of other more tangible aid when a call came up to his comm but it wasn’t Peter or one of Jcaans men. It was Trey, youngest of his three sons.

“Hey da’ was up? I heard ye’ been chatting with Nova again.” He started cheekily knowing exactly how much it would annoy his father when someone else butted in on his business.

“Huh? How’d you know I’d be at Xandar and why would I be talking to Nova? He asked in slight irritation.

“Oh, come on da’. Like there’s that MANY male Raccoonoids (though most humanoids couldn’t tell their sexes at a glance anyway) in black combat suits hanging out with a tree, wearing Guardian’s badge and since it’s not me or me bro’s…”

“Okay fine. You got me son. Can’t your old man and his friendly neighbor tree have a bit of outing every now and then?”

“Sure da’ but not when ‘is ye’ an’ we’re right behind ye’. Order us some Latte too will ye?” Trey chuckled in response at seeing his dad almost fall off from his chair from surprise. Which in turn makes Groot amused which in turn makes Rocket embarrassed and annoyed which in turn makes his sons even more amused.

Twenty years ago a walking tree and four Raccoonoids in black combat uniforms drinking latte at a café terrace would have been a sight strange enough to cause road accidents; today it merely caused a few raised eyebrows from the people passing by.

"So how you been boys and how's yer' gang been going?" Rocket asks conversationally.

"Oh we've been alright, well except when Duo messed a couple of wires on a bomb in a mission at Rigel-5 and nearly blew up the whole block!" Trey chuckles.

"Oh shut up Mr. I can't keep a straight face if it kills me." Duo grunts annoyed shoving the youngest brother a little to which his brother responds in turn.

"As you see we're fine, we was just about to restock here before heading for Terra, Dem 'vengers asked our help with finding out why aliens have been abducting 'ccoons left and right for the past three months now." Uno says frowning a little disapprovingly at his younger brothers pushing match.

"I think I've almost solved that one for you boys... some weirdo Arquan slave trader Lexor Lem got hired to 'produce' them for someone else. We raided a warehouse full of the critters just yesterday with Star-lord at Delan-3."

Uno smirks as Trey & Duo stop their shoving match to stare at their dad. " Wow da' that's pretty neat, so what else ye been up to lately besides doing our job for us?" He asks to which Trey adds "well what Trixx ain't knowing he'll get hurt none and I've heard that Earth girls are easy..."

"Yeah you would you perv, still Trixx can't be too unhappy for the paid vacation." Duo grins smacking his brother lightly by the ears.

"It's the parents job to clean their kits mess... nothing much mainly been dodging lasers from some A-hole krutack trying to smoke my tail back at Xarth around last week." Rocket hmphs as if it wasn't such a big deal.

"I am Groot" _Not just you Rocket but the whole convoy of twenty was targeted by biological rapid growth nano weapons and we've been after them since._

“Holy flark, da’! -So that's what it was really about at the news!” Trey exclaimed to which his brothers joined upon hearing that their father had been the target for murder.

“Look, boys you’re making it too big. It’s not the first time someone tries to nail me.” Rocket belittled.

“Seriously dad, if some dumb krutack’s trying to off ya. We’ll be happy to frag him for ya. Just point the direction.” Dey offered sounding almost offended that someone had tried to kill his old man.

“So, who is the frakk head? Anyone we should know off?” Uno, ever the thinker of the three, asks.

“That’s the problem boys, we don’t know for sure.” Rocket sighs sipping at his latte.

“I am Groot?” _I thought we were gunning for Knife because of this?_

“Huh? Isn’t he stashed at Kyln? I remember Uncle Pete bragging about it when we were just kits?” Dey asks eyebrows climbing.

“I guess the foggy’s on the loose then, ‘ey da’? “ Trey snorts shrugging his shoulders. Uno just sniggers.

“The frakk if I know. All I got is Star-dork’s hunch and confirmation from Nova that his pop’s out and AWOL. While his hunches tend to be right, it’s suspiciously convenient that the day I hear the d’astard is on the loose again, I get a hit on my ass.” Rocket notes none too cheerily.

“Yeah way too convenient timing, you would think he’d prefer to lay low to get off the heat.” Uno comments with a nod.

“And how would he- You know boys you’ve just given me a new clue.” Rocket exclaims happily.

“We did?” his sons ask in unison.

“I am Groot?” _care to elaborate?_

“I should kick myself in the ass for not seeing it sooner! Someone had to help him out of Kyln and supply him with all the stuff to get him started again. J’son was a stinking rich egomaniac twenty years ago, but time in jail puts even a galactic high roller in a lot of debts to pay once his out.” Rocket explains.

“So, Knife gets get-out-of-jail-card from some anonymous, this person then arms him with all the shit he needs and then Knife guns for dad? Isn’t that kind of contrived?” Uno reflects slightly unconvinced.

“Yeh, but it also makes kinda wicked sense. I mean the other old Guardians are missing or well retired and da’s lot easier to find in a pinch than Uncle Pete.” Trey adds in defense of his dad.

“Knife’s also a great scapegoat to blame by his benefactor who probably wants dad out of the way for some reason.” Duo adds.

“Hey let’s not jump to conclusions boys. We ain’t got anything solid so far besides the fact that the whole assault was not all that well executed.” Rocket calms down his enthusiastic sons.

“But didn’t you once teach us that those nanite things are among the nastiest weapons invented, dad?” Uno pointed out.

“Well, yeah but they’re not meant for assassination or precision strikes. They’re designed for causing panic and civilian casualties.” Rocket notes draining his cup of coffee.

“Think dad, it’s not like yer charming nature isn’t making ye lacking in enemies here. I mean which ones ye got added around the time ye got those lovely scars on yer face? What if ye were just meant to get hurt and not bagged at Xarth?” Trey pushes oblivious to the annoyed frown at his father’s face.

“Half the frakkin’ bureau Trey, to be honest and no I don’t recall anyone who’d want me specifically dead; demoted or removed, yes maybe but not dead.” Rocket grumbles in response though the way his ears twitch is a clear sign to his sons that he was going through a list in his mind.

“And I’m sure as heck not going to interview the whole bureau because of mere hunch.”

“Oh, well that narrows it down…” Dey comments cynically and not the least bit of surprised. One of his dad’s more prominent traits was his near total lack of social grace.

“I am Groot.” _And how. Guess our only real option is still trying to find Knife and hope to get something out of him?_

“Exactomundo Groot, and he isn’t going to show up in this Café.” Rocket announces standing up and throwing some units on the table. “Say hi from me to your mom and team mates boys and tell her I’ll get back home again once I’ve dealt with this crap and don't let Trixx push you guys around just because his the team leader.”

“Sure thing da’, and mom’s been missing ye too, ye know”. Trey promises in behalf of his brother’s though he doesn’t sound terribly convinced that his dad’s going to be there.

Rocket felt a slight sting at his conscience from that but shows no outward signs as he walks away with Groot.

* * *

“So how did it go with Nova?” Star-lord asked when Groot and Rocket returned to the ship.

“Not too bad. We met my boys at the Café and got what we came for from Dey.” Rocket announces and presents the data crystals to Peter sitting at the crusty sofa at the common area.

“So how’s the kids. They and the other younglings doing okay?”

“Oh, they’re fine and gave me a new look on this mess but we’ll need to find J’son to see if I’m getting any of my hunches right.” Rocket notes falling silent aside from humming to himself as if in deep thought.

“Well...? While we’re still young Rocket.” Peter grumbles impatiently when Rocket is deliberately taking his time with the revelation.

“I am Groot!”Groot finally shouts tired of Rocket ‘milking’ his fun from Peter’s impatience.

“Jeesh, you guys really suck the joy out of things at times." Rocket whines half-heartedly.

“I figured that Knife would have needed help to get out of Kyln and to regain his connections, so it has to be someone with deep pockets and I don’t believe in charity among criminals.”

“So you, think he was paid to strike on you?”

“Well Duh, obviously. Attacking me would have launched a full scale investigation in any case, but because it was a failed attack it’s much easier to push it under the rug once the trail runs cold and things settle down and from the way I’m about to be thrown in the gutter; it looks like somebody’s plan is working assuming this was their goal.”

“Okay, well that’s actually kind of clever I guess.” Peter assents scratching his head in thought.

“Anyway, you know where Karnaka system is ‘cause I don’t recall I’ve ever heard from it?” Rocket interjects not interested in hearing ‘how clever’ it had been to try killing him.

“Well… Yeah, it’s…” Peter says snapping his fingers trying to recall the name. “A backwater system near alpha-6 quadrant’s uncharted parts, not too far from outlying Spartoi settlements but there’s like nothing in that sector, just poison planets and rundown pirate heavens ever since the Spartoi exhausted their last vibranium mines and pulled their main forces out. Peter recounts uncertain of what Rocket might want with this.

“It’s where those animals and slaves were headed in case you already forgot and I’m betting Knife’s base is there too or someone close to him anyway. I would, if I were him and were in need of space to squat in with my hit squads and slaver rings.”

“Sounds legit enough to me.” Jcaan comments, walking up to common area with his head medical officer Dibar. Jcaan looks at Rocket with a tired expression and they both do a quick salute. Jcaan sits next to Rocket at the sofa while Dibar takes a chair around the table resting on his arm propped against the table.

Rocket looks at his squad captain and head medic with concern. “How are the boys, nothing bad I hope?”

“Oh they’ll be fine; I took the liberty of having a Xandarian specialist doc take a look at them just in case. Chixi and Ebiex have a few fractures from the scuffle at the bar and Xan’s laser burn needed more than simple stitching to make sure it heals right says my bone saw here. So we’ve got three more men out for the count.”

“Yeah, the kid needs to learn to duck & shoot from cover before he gets dead.” Dibar mutters in a way that makes it clear he hasn’t slept much lately.

“Duly noted first Sergeant, and with Yocar dead and Xaanth out of duty at Xarth-3. I’m running out of secondary commanders soon, Grand Admiral.” Jcaan nods with a sigh. It was clear that he wasn’t too happy with the situation.

“I know cap. It’s why I’ve arranged some Nova support for us when we raid that base at Karnaka-system.” Rocket reassures his captain who looks back at him with unvoiced approval.

“All right then let’s get this show back on the road; tell your boys we’ll be leaving in about an hour’s time frame Jcaan. I’ll inform the Nova about our flight plan.” Peter announces slapping his palms against his thighs while getting up from his seat.

 

> ***** Rocket had lived a long time without a surname and even now rarely used it but by being a citizen of not just one but three empires; Half-world by origin, Free colony alliance by marriage and Xarth by choice, meant that he was required to have one and Raccoon was certainly better than 89P13 or Quill or shudder -something chosen in random as was done with John Doe orphans living under state care. The word didn't bother him too much as long it was used as his surname, especially after he'd found out that several notable families at other planets had surnames relating to animals.

 


	9. Base jumping

## Base jumping

## Ch 8

**Thesopia cluster, Karnaka system- planet 4, Alpha-6 quadrant – the mining colonies.**

**Morning hours**

**16h after leaving Xandar**

 

Star-lord studied the view in front of him before confirming what he saw outside from the ship's sensor HUDs. He lowered his Walkman’s headphones down to his neck.

"Attention all ships, this is the Milano. Prepare to fall from hyperspace and deceleration to cruise speed." He announced and waited as the fleet responded one-by-one.

“Affirmed, all ships set for radio silence. All right, switching the cloaking on in 1-2-3-4-5!”” He announced after acknowledging their replies.

The whole fleet shimmered and vanished. He turned his attention to Rocket sitting at the co-pilot seat.

“Twenty minutes to destination, better get ready Pete.” Rocket confirmed locking eyes with Quill momentarily, who nodded and reached over to pat his diminutive friend’s shoulder reassuringly. “We’ll get the bastard.”

“Of course we will, Pete.” Rocket agreed unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Yeah…but still-“Star-lord began but Rocket shot out his finger accusingly at Peter before he could say anything else. “Don’t spoil the moment!” He announced in mock severity and left the cockpit to prepare for planetfall.

“Yeah, what could go wrong? Ehh, Groot?” Star-lord shrugged at Groot who nodded uttering his signature phrase in oddly sage tone.

“You and me both pal.” Star-lord sighed and leaned back in his chair raising his Walkman back to his ears to listen the end notes of Hooked on a feeling. Fifty years and it was still one of his favorites.

* * *

 

Rocket stared at his image from the mirror, clad in his grey combat armor. He glanced at his insignias at the side table and left them there with a tired sigh. S _trange how I used to wade just fine in to gunfights without an armor when I was younger, just the flight suits or the Guardian uniforms. Damn I must have been crazy or really good to have just these few holes in me._ He was dragged out of his thoughts when he heard his cabin door being rapped.

“Grand Admiral, sir we’ve arrived to the outer atmosphere. Five minutes till full planetfall.” Miijk announced saluting snappily when Rocket opened the door to let him in.

“Thanks Ensign, and Cicel…”

“Sir?”

“Whatever happens down there today, you guys are among the best I’ve had the pleasure to work with.”

“Thank you Grand Admiral. It has been a pleasure serving under you as well.” The ensign said after a moment of confused silence. They all knew how sparing Rocket was with praise. Cicel then made a quick salute and left. Rocket sighed, closed the door and shakily opened the last packet of pills he kept at his belt pocket. “ _Breakfast of the champions.”_ He thought bitterly and willed the d’ast pills to work faster before grabbing his guns and leaving the room to round-up Star-lord and Captain Jcaan and to send a signal for Nova fleet. It was time to plan.

* * *

 

War room aboard the Nova heavy cruiser _Rightful fury_ made Rocket feel almost at home. It was fairly Spartan and the design had utility foremost in mind like all else about the ship. Rocket hummed to himself tapping his claws to the tune against the holo-display table surface while thinking over their plans. Their liaison, Centurion commander Essana Windholme of the Nova corps seemed to spend almost as much time in studying Rocket and his companions as she did the holographic displays showing Intel from surveillance drones they had launched to scan the enemy base and from scout ships stationed at the orbit.Jcaan and Star-lord were chatting quietly together about possible enemy numbers and if they should need any special equipment while Groot seemed perfectly willing to let soldiers soldier on as they saw fit.

“Doesn’t look too tough to me. Three entrances into old mining shafts which converge at the main base and a couple of blast doors, though we don’t know what’s inside the actual base or its layout.”  
“We could use knockout gas to soften them up before the attack.” The Xandarian proposed. Rocket raised his gaze upwards to regard Windholme when he was spoken to.

“Too risky; some species are almost immune to it and it takes too much time to vent the place properly after use. I’d suggest we use gravity mines and stun grenades as needed but leave the thugs a way out…”

Windholme frowned at Rocket. “What for? I want them apprehended not running loose.”

“Because we post some of your forces to encircle the base in case they have other exits or try to leave in ships and unless you really want to see the material from which those men have been made, you leave them the means to escape…”

“Oh, you’re going to ferret them out like in rabbit hunt, Rocket?” Star-lord noted jovially.

“What’s these ferret and rabbit you speak of?” Windholme asked confused.

“Ferret's a small but fierce Terran carnivorous animal that’s traditionally used to flush herbivorous animals called rabbits out of their burrows while the hunters wait outside with a net to catch them.” Star-lord explains.

“I see. Not a bad plan then but what should be this… Ferret?” Windholme nodded testing the unfamiliar word in her mouth.

“Us of course!” Rocket announced with a toothy grin. “Now have your troops located the enemy comm-relay station yet?”

Windholme nods, speaking a few words in to his comm device before moving his hand in semicircle above the display table to change the map view. “Right there. We’ll be ready to take it out as planned the moment you give the signal.”

“Let’s Rocket & roll people.” Rocket announces and the next seconds he has the most vicious _Hurting them will be so much fun_ look on his face, a face from which everyone in the room including Groot and Star-lord is momentarily taken aback.

* * *

 _Roll call boys; Yocar, Xaanth, Xan,_ Miijk, Obarth, Chixi, Ord and Pfiri _are out of the roster already; the two foremost dead at Xarth-3 and the rest have laser burns and other combat injuries severe enough to limit them from the active roster._ _That leaves me with Xerth, Rodas, Ebiex, Jciin, Xoris, Jkeen, Xarthax, Yuezh, Yeliz, and Dibar as our field Medic wile X'berith will remain here_. _That's 11 left of 20 including Captain Jcaan._ Rocket thought somewhat morbidly while keeping track of ‘his boys’ preparations aboard the Milano for the task at hand.

He tried to shake off his nagging sixth sense by concentrating on putting his own gear in order but it kept insisting that something was about to go badly wrong. _I'll cross that bridge when I get there._ Rocket thought putting on his combat helmet before leaving the ship with Groot, Star-lord and his remaining men.

* * *

The relatively compact planet might have been fairly pleasant with its green rolling hills and fairly wooded terrain if not for the fact that nothing except plants could live here for long without constant medication against heavy metal poisoning*.

"All right boys. There should be an entrance shaft to base proper in about two hundred feet inwards. We'll place the first set of stun mines about here." Rocket says studying maps on his view screen before comparing it to mine entrance momentarily.

"Awfully quiet, don't you think?" Star-lord grimaced behind his signature mask.

"Think they're expecting us?" Jcaan reckoned taking the safety off from his gun.

"I would... We weren't exactly stealthy when taking out those three sentries." Rocket shrugs indicating at the remains of the three men Nova snipers had eliminated near the cave mouth. Star-lord nodded in agreement.

"Let's go we've got one more entrance fork to mine." Rocket notes glancing at his clock with a calculating look. Jcaan takes the lead as the group sneaks through the tunnels.

"All right then; Nova blow the damn tower." Rocket ordered via intercom once the mines had been set. A low rumble at a distance was heard and another one much louder was heard less than a minute later. "Go, go, go. We've got about five to place the last set before they can re-establish their links and realize we've blocked their way out."

Rocket had barely managed to place the next set of explosives around the exit before he was forced to rush into hiding; jumping the last few yards behind the rocks to hide with the others when a group of enemies came trotting by. Rocket pushed the button of the remote detonator in mid-flight catching the group in the blast that caved in the entrance and nearly did Rocket in as well when a huge chunk of rocks fell down from the roof right next to his head.

"That cut a bit close." He snorts tapping a boulder with a slight grin.

"Okay let's get the rest, I suspect they've gotten a whiff about us by now." Star-lord observed which Rocket confirmed by listening the enemy comm frequency or more precisely what was left of it.

"Their comm links are temporarily busted, let's use that advantage and get a move on guys." Rocket reminds everyone.

As predicted the next knot of enemies were now momentarily disorganized and easily dealt with. Rocket raised his hand to stop their group and assessed their situation when the fighting had momentarily died down. His sharp ears could still pick the weak sounds of sporadic weapon discharges from the other shafts further out and creaks of mechanism moving, possibly the blast doors closing, from behind the bend ahead. Large set of blast doors should be blocking their access to the base itself just behind that bend which then would fork into two other shaft leading back to surface. Rocket took out his mirror again to see behind the corner. He snaked it carefully forward the mirror glinting in the dim light. The coast looked clear when a sudden blast from previously unknown source vaporized the mirror.

"D'ast! My mirror! Stupid overzealous autocannons." Rocket cursed in disgust and threw a few rocks behind the corner, aimed at the turrets hovering at the cavern ceiling, which predictably exploded the rocks in moments. "Not the fastest models though fast enough, we need to get under the kill zone before taking them out... Should have brought more diverse explosives." He assessed biting his lip in slight dismay and handed over his ion cannon and utility belt to Groot's care before drawing out his pistols, one in each hand.

"I am Groot?" _You sure you really aren't just trying to prove something here, you know?"_ Groot asks quietly.

"We've done this flark before, remember. It's no big deal." Rocket ensures though Groot doesn't look particularly convinced.

"Anyone got smoke?" Star-lord asked resisting the urge to peek behind the corner. Rodas nodded lobbing a can from his belt to Star-lord.

"All right then, I'll throw the can in and you rush it. Think you can hit them all before the system locks on you?" Star-lord confirmed looking at Rocket meaningfully

"I'll only need to hit the first and the next ones go down like dominos. Assuming that they're grid assigned as per usual fashion they'll be moving in predictable patterns. Smoke and heat from the grenade should be enough to confuse the sensors to get me under the turrets."

"Assuming is the mother of all fuck ups." Star-lord nodded gravely. They all knew they couldn't afford to sit there for too long and would either have to act and move forward or call a retreat.

"On three..." Star-lord says throwing the smoke charge behind the corner and Rocket rushed forward in rolling crouch and the autocannons opened fire. One, two, three shots from the cannons, -A muffled curse from Rocket then nothing, then another three shots from the cannons and Rockets pistols returning fire and everything went quiet. Star-lord waited a few more moments and signaled them forward into smoke blanketed tunnel. Rocket turned to regard them with an unreadable expression, sitting amidst the debris from blasted auto turrets resuming the inspection of his injury as the group cleared the smoke.

"is it bad?" Peter asked calmly. He'd seen Rocket shrug off much worse and wasn't too worried when he leaned down to look at the five inch long and two wide molten gash that was gouged on Rockets right thigh armor.

"Nah, it didn't go through inner layers. Though suit's probably not hermetic anymore." The raccoonoid shrugged accepting his Ion cannon and utility belt back from Groot.

"I am Groot". _While I'm happy to let you two mavericks shine, I'd like to remind you that I'm virtually laser proof._ Groot noted in light disapproval to which Peter frowns, picking the tone but not much else from Groot.

"He said next time we charge, he wants to go first." Rocket grunts an unhappy interpretation. Star-lord blinks in shock before it dawns to him. "Oh yeah, he can take like a dozen hits from those things easy. Now why didn't I thought of it?"

"'cause you're an idiot, now let's move. Those damn doors won't open just by them self." Rocket grumbled. "When you're ready Grooty." He said picking himself up from the ground. Groot made a show of flexing his limbs before marching up to sealed blast doors and started to grow his 'fingers' in to minuscule crack between the door halves gradually forcing the doors more and more apart like roots breaking a rock in fast motion. With a heavy grunt he forced them open enough for the others to grab on the halves and help. The door servos screeched deafeningly at the forced opening. He rushed into melee seemingly ignoring the laser fire directed at him. Rocket, Star-lord and the Xarthians poured in guns blazing using Groot as their living bullet shield and cleared the 'entry lobby' in record time. Rocket assessed the space quickly; it was surprisingly high, maybe as much as 500ft, open and wide space to be inside a mountain; in fact it was probably a former volcanic cone used to hide some kind of launch pad pits judging by its generally circular shape and familiar placing of the structures within but what he didn't know the meaning for was the gigantic war robot surrounded by scaffoldings rising from the middlemost of the launch pits where a ballistic continental rocket or spaceship would have normally been situated.

"All right listen here, Me, Groot and Pete will take the right side, Jcaan; you will take half the team and clear the left halls and the rest of you, you'll secure this center area and if any hostile digs in or starts running; let them get to main hall where you guys ambush them, leave the rest to Novas. Now let's move." Rocket reminds everyone.

* * *

"Okay, got him!" Peter informs as the lone guard that had been blocking his way toppled against the doorframe with a hole in his chest.

"Good, that makes it fifteen for our part so far, Jcaan reported of engaging a group of ten and Dibar's guys got nine killed and four hostiles have tried to hole up once we left... That's 38 encountered so far, I wonder how many enemies we're actually still having in here? My side of the house is clear. What's your position? I'll circle back to you now." Rocket updated via crackling intercom.

"Can't be too many left. Meet me up at near the middle freaky statues hall." Star-lord assured looking at both ways at the corridor junction before moving forward. Freaky statues hall was a name they had immediately given to this area of empty storage and multi-purpose units hewn into volcanic rock coupled with some weird statues lining the adjoining hallways in question. Six evenly spaced passages crisscrossing with five other parallel tunnels formed the area layout into mostly grid pattern.

The dim corridor seemed rather deserted and as it appeared he was pretty much alone, a sliver of light came through the gap under the door at the end of the corridor he was walking on. _Well, well, it looks like we have a night worker._ Peter though etching closer to the light. He gazed forward and froze in alarm; seeing Rocket at the end of the hall raising his gun to shoot at his direction. Groot was nowhere to be seen.

 

 

 

 

> *Vibranium oxide is highly toxic and easily accumulating heavy metal. Old mining practices could easily destroy the whole planetary biosphere when mined in quantities required for intergalactic mass-production if care was not taken to ensure that the dust and sewage would remain at the mining site and all gangue was Vibranium free before dumping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to make the chapters shorter as I go...


	10. J'son's ruse

## J’son’s ruse

## Ch 9

 

"Down!" Rocket commands in brief tone that leaves no room for ifs and buts. Peter has rarely heard that tone from Rocket but doesn't hesitate to obey, his belly barely hitting the floor before Rocket's ion cannon wheezes its Banshee wail. Peter later swore the energy bolt went so close that he could feel the super heated plasma singe his hair. The hits are confirmed by muffled grunts and guns clattering against the floor at a distance. Peter scrambles on his knees from the floor; looking at Rocket coolly replacing a cartridge on his weapon and then at the smouldering corpses at the end of the opposite hallway.

"Forty-one now. Probably stragglers from other sections." Rocket notes coldly, giving no indication of helping Peter back on his feet while walking past him to inspect the corpses and truth to be told Peter wasn't expecting it from him either.

"By-the-by, Comms ain't working too good this far inside the base, too much stone. Probably needs an amp of some kind which we courteously knocked down earlier and piggy-bagging through their emergency-net probably isn't worth the hassle. Nothing of worth on these Krutacks, typical." Rocket informs kicking and scavenging the bodies matter of factly.

"Thanks anyway." Peter sighs standing up and dusting off himself a little and picks his weapon from the floor. He turns his attention back to their surroundings. "So where's Groot?

"Doing what I should have told him to doto begin with, watching the entrance to this part of the base so we wouldn't get sneaked upon by stragglers."

Peter nods to Rocket's words and indicates at the door. "On three?"

"Go for it." Rocket complies taking position slightly left from behind Peter to be able to shoot in the room when the door is opened.

Peter pulls the door open in a quick swing before stopping at his tracks to stare. There he was; standing behind his desk, a midd-aged man of light complexion and brown hair and beard wearing freshly ironed brown dress uniform-like attire and looking very uncannily alike older version of Quill. There was no doubt that this was not J'son of Spartax also known as Mr. Knife the former emperor of Spartax and a galactic crime lord.

Star-lord blinked for a moment in slight surprise, he really hadn't expected it to be this easy. In comparison The man behind the desk seemed completely unfazed by this sudden union.

"You're going down slaver king. I'd never thought you to sink this low Dad." Peter stared at his father in momentary disbelief while J’son’s face merely twitched into his signature half-smirk.

“Sure call me a criminal and a slaver, son. I don’t deny it but neither will I admit enjoying it. The thing is; it pays so damn well better than anything else… Even the drug & weapon trade pales and I needed the money fast so sue me.”

“You bet I will but first I’m going to make you pay for all that you’ve done.” Peter growled taking a step towards the room with his fists clenched.

“Peter stop!” Rocket suddenly cried from behind him in alarm. Peter stops for a moment to glance at Rocket in slight confusion over his shoulder before darting his eyes back to his father sitting behind his office desk with that annoying air of calm he always projected –a calm which Peter knew to be nothing but a well-rehearsed show. Peter was about to say something more when J’son’s sudden drop of sneer warned him about something being off.

And just like that; Rocket had taken aim with that huge Ion cannon of his and blown J’son’s forehead clean off in the time it took Star-lord to turn his head and blink in surprise. Or rather he would have if it had actually been J’son and not an exceedingly well-crafted hologram. The man simply winked out of existence when hot ionized plasma frizzed the holo-projection, going straight through to create a sizzling a hole on the thick metal wall behind the apparition, instead of painting the walls in brain matter grey.

“What the-! How did you-?” Star-lord grunted in momentary confusion.

“Easy, he had no scent and I couldn’t hear a heartbeat and with us that close and just about to nail his sorry ass… I should have heard the thumping of his shrivelled black heart from the other side of the base, so it was either a Holo-trap or a Life-Model–Decoy, and then there are these mines. Damn nice Holo-trap though; most of them are preprogrammed but this seems to have an A.I attached to make it more interactive. I wonder if it's mechanism isn’t too big to be nicked and I’m going to call dibs on those mines as well.” Rocket shrugs with mischievous gleam in his red-hued black beady eyes (they always gleamed with pale reddish hue in dim light for some reason) as he sets to disarm the infra-red tripwire mines off at doorframes before letting Peter to enter further in.

“Sure, but how are we going to get him now? Think you can trace the control signal from that projection?” Peter asks as it slowly dawns him how close he had been to blow up in his haste.

“I don’t know, with luck the frizz I caused made it wink out before it could be masked properly…” Rocket nods folding open his field-kit of tools.

“I’ll go find Groot and the others; you’ll lock on to that signal and check the room if there’s anything else worth taking here.” Peter orders with practised ease which Rocket doesn’t object already humming softly to himself as he starts tearing the holo-trap's machinery apart to reveal its secrets.

* * *

 

Peter watched Rocket humming and working with the machinery for a moment before leaving the room. _Let the little guy do his magic... If he can't lock & splice the signal none can._

He pulled out his gun in front of him as he went and carefully checked and listened at the junctions just in-case if there were more of the stragglers than just the three that Rocket had fried earlier. He relented when he saw Groot's massive silhouette near the main entrance to their section of the base.

"How's it looking out there Groot. Everything all right?" he asked retreating his mask and peered into gloomy passage to main base past the tree man.

"I am Groot." he nodded and laid a questioning glance at Peter.

"Yeah, I left Rocket back there to work with a remote controlled Hologram machinery we found; he may be able to trace it's carrier signal back to its source."

Groot nods voicing his signature phrase in rather confident tone which to Peter implied something along the line of "of course he will, don't you worry."

"All right, you'll stay here. I need to catch up with the other groups but the walls around here are too thick for the intercoms to work properly."

"I am Groot." Groot noted reassuringly.

* * *

Jcaan thought about his orders for a moment before nodding to Rocket in acknowledgement. "Alright, Yuezh, Xarthax, Yeliz , Jceen; with me!". Dibar salutes him shortly before scurrying off with his portion of men to take positions around the main hall, weapons set on low power since their military weapons had no stun. It would be their job to catch anyone trying to sneak away or back into base.

Jcaan turned on his heels marching grimly like a hang man on a task towards the left passage way.

* * *

"Damn it, anyone brought an extra riffle stun grenade?" Jcaan cursed glowering at the six men hiding behind a barricade hastily erected from office furniture that was blocking the corridor ahead.

"Here sir! Yeliz said snappily and handed the grenade to his captain.

"Should have known without asking that you always carry extra." Jcaan thanks with partial smirk, placing the grenade in place on the launcher below the barrel and etched closer to the corner they were hiding behind.

"What can I say Cap, I like things that go boom." Yeliz grinned back to his Captain.

"Ain't that the truth." Xarthax smirked watching their Captain taking aim and firing the stun grenade over the hasty barricade with skill & precision from years of practice. It arched across the barricade almost lazily exploding right behind it with a dull roar, the barricade protecting Jcaan and his men from the blast but not the ones behind it who took the full brunt.

"Alright, enough smack boys, Go, go, go!" Jcaan yelled the order pouring over the hasty barricade after his men who quickly subdued & tied up their confused and concussed enemies.

 _This was our fifth engagement so far and this knot of opposition hadn't been a one bit more skilled than the earlier groups of goons. Either the enemy has left only a token force or hasn't had the time to properly vet their troops yet. Either one works just fine for me._ Jcaan thought inspecting the recent handiwork of his team with a trained eye. The room this group had been barricading -or more properly covering near at, looked like a medical lab of some kind... He flipped on the lights switching on his helmet camera video feed on shortly and panned his head slowly around to take in the whole room. _There was certainly something strange done here, something beyond my expertise._ Jcaan thought shutting the camera feed before switching off the lights and joining back to his men.

"Alright, split up boys, count to four. Odd's go right and the even left with me." Jcaan orders noticing the passages forking after the barricade they'd just broken through. His men make a snappy salute before doing as ordered. Yuezh & Xarthax staying with him while Yeliz & Jceen take the right turn.

"Let's haul these losers back to Dibar." Jcaan grunts grabbing one of the sullen looking prisoners shakily back on his feet.

* * *

"Sir, we've secured the area B." His comms crackled and squealed annoyingly. _Blasted interference..._ _Can't even tell to whom I'm speaking to._ "Prisoners and casualties?" Jcaan asked sharp and professional. They already had about a dozen guards as prisoners tied-up and in varying condition, some had surrendered and some had required subduing, though he hadn't expected this many to actually surrender. At least that knot of scientists and technicians had so far been co-operative if a bit belligerent.

"None sir, but plenty of 'merchandise' freed. A few minor scrapes but we're all still combat ready." Came the reply. Jcaan grimaced slightly even though he'd already known exactly what kind of 'merchandise' was kept at this base. It however did nothing to explain all those mangled & vivisected animals in one of the labs or weird schematics which made little sense to any of them. Engineering and animal testing seemed very un-slaver like things to do. Only thing this revealed was the reason for the odd shipment they'd intercepted at Delan-3.

" Yuezh, take Xarthax with you and question those scientists! Yeliz secure the weapons from the enemy and keep an eye on the slaves we've freed. I don't want them to run loose and get shot or start lynching their former tormentors. I'll go find the others and we'll then regroup with them at the central hall." Jcaan orders.

* * *

Dibar saluted to Jcaan on arrival to which Jcaan responded with his own.

"So where are the prisoners Sergeant? " His asks noticing that there were some bodies but no prisoners in sight.

"stuffed them inside one of those empty storage units Cap." Dibar replies waving at the general direction of small but sturdy industrial grade ready-made storage units, quite similar to ocean shipping containers.

"Alright then, -wait somebody's coming." Jcaan approves and turns his gaze towards the right side passage hearing slow running steps. Dibar and his men tense hefting their guns.

"Stand down, it's Star-lord." Jcaan commands lowering his gun as well when Star-lord waves at them, retracting his mask and slows his approach to walk upon seeing their group.

"basketball numbers Jcaan. Not bad at all." Peter announces cheerily.

"Basketball numbers?" The men quirk eyebrows at Peter's odd reference.

"Yeah, it's a Terran sport ahh -never mind. Anyway me Rocket & Groot killed 18 between the three of us. Rocket had issues with those guys trying to shoot us in the back. Anyway we found only a Holo trap representing Knife. Either someone tipped him off about the raid or his hired psychics. Rocket is at Knife's office with Groot tracing the signal and looting the place for anything useful."

"I can imagine..." Jcaan snorts in amusement. If he ever had had trouble imagining his tiny Admiral hard at work mowing down hordes of enemies with that huge gun and tree-friend of his, he'd lost any and all such notions at Xarth-3.

"We found some pretty interesting things as well, might want to look at it. We should probably call Nova Windholme in now. Base is secured." Jcaan proposes.

"Yeah go ahead and show me but don't call in the Nova just yet, though I'm happy to let them mop up the rest of this Svarnak's but hole of a base and then get the frakk out of here." Star-lord agrees smiling relaxed and sits down on a small crate to view what Jcaan had taped, stretching a little to relax his tense shoulders.

 


	11. Revelations at Marcellus

## Revelations at Marcellus

## Ch 10

"Hum-di dum-dum- I shot the sheriff but I also blew up the deputy..." Rocket hums happily; working on the device and dismantling the traps.

"Dam-di dum- red wire is connected to the battery-and battery is connected to the blinky-! Huh?" Rocket scowls and stops humming, noticing that one of the thin wires inside the bundle forming one thick bundle of wire has two lines under its insulation instead of one. It looked like the other ends might lead to a backup of some kind. Probably just an emergency battery, he thinks rummaging through his tools only to notice that for the first time in years he'd forgotten to bring his electric analyzer gauge.

"Not bloody likely that this is going to blow up or anything, I'll just yank them off." He snorted in disgust for his irrational fears and twined the coiled cord into a loop around his right paw while holding the device's almost unhooked prism collector, that was connected to the main assembly via the said cords, at his left paw.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Rocky." Husky female voice noted caressing the base of his crown fur and neckline fondly from behind, a familiar female voice. He jumps almost two feet into the air screaming and nearly wetting his pants from fright. Rocket's hairs stood on erect and his tail fluffed and stiffened like a bottle brush when he spun around to face the woman that had spoken and touched him, dropping the device on the ground from his hands with a clank. The woman was gone almost before he'd even managed to set his feet back on the ground but her scent remained faintly and flash of green- green skin, green cloak?

"Gammy- Gamora?" Rocket whispered hoarsely. The f- was going on? Was he getting senile or seeing ghosts? Rocket growled under his breath shaking his head and tried to think. He didn't believe in ghosts. If you died you frakkin' stayed that way... Yeah okay Moondragon hadn't, Thanos hadn't and Star-lord hadn't and Drax was probably just too damn stubborn to stay dead but for Frakk-sakes Gamora had been dead for ages... Damn it, oxygen levels must be dropping or there was a coolant leak or something BUT there were no Frakking ghosts! He sighed in exasperation picking the device again but this time he gave it a much closer look, remembering the warning he'd received. Son of a- slagg- It indeed had a very small but powerful explosive rigged in and cutting the auxiliary wire would have set it off. He shivered from the thought.

But the accursed transmitter was now exposed for examination. Rocket shivered again and placed aside the now dismantled booby trap and took out a display device from his pack which he then hooked into exposed transmitter.

As expected, plenty of white noise recorded, some meaningless signal traces and... AND! Nothing! Absolutely not a- Wait a moment, that was no white noise, it was too uniform. It had to be the signal but it was weak and warped strangely. He'd need a better computer for proper analyse. For all he knew, it could still be just a quasar pulse or some other gravimetric crap.

_I remember when I was still green with astronavigation... Had all the knowledge but no experience_. It had taken him almost three days to realize that the deep space beacon signal wasn't a beacon at all but a nearby pulsar and finding his way back to charted routes cost so much time that his second stolen shuttle ever was almost out of fuel and life-support by the time he had reached the actual deep-space beacon and correctly navigated to the nearest spaceport.

Rocket sighed tiredly and started to collect his tools scattered about the room and stuffed his backpack with any parts that seemed useful. There likely wouldn't be anything else worth taking; not with all the mines and traps, an amount enough to incinerate the whole room, he waged. This room was nothing but an elaborate death-trap set to kill anyone that came after Knife. A quick peek inside the desk drawers proved his suspicions right when nothing but discarded electric pens were rattling inside.

* * *

 

"They were doing what, let me see? Yeah okay, I'm not sure if Rocket needs to know about this just yet Jcaan. " Star-lord agreed with the Captain after hearing his short and to the point report and seeing a quick video feed pictures of what they had found from the right wing labs.

"Need to know about what Star-dork?" Came a sharp question from behind and above him. Star-lord turned to regard Rocket sitting at Groot's shoulder, now that they were in a space which had ceiling high enough where it was once again possible without Groot or Rocket constantly bumping their heads into piping or lighting fixtures.

"Ahh-, aww shuck, you'd find it out soon enough anyway. Come on Jcaan let's go look at that horror panacea. Don't blame me if you freak out Rocket." Star-lord amended with resigned a sigh. Rocket gave a disgruntled grunt. "I'm not a frack'n porcelain doll, Quill."

Rocket had to climb down from Groot again to his annoyance before entering the right wing base.

"D'ast buggers could've made the ceilings of this base just a little higher couldn't they?" He grumbled in annoyance.

"I am Groot." _Like you didn't have two perfectly good legs you lazy bugger, it's not that far._ Rocket responded by giving Groot the evil eye.

"In here." Jcaan said and nodded for Dibar to push the light switch and turn on the lights at the large dark room. Rocket didn't really need the lights, his low-light sensitive eyes could easily identify what the shapes in the dark were though not all details, but his human and Xandarian friends didn't posses his eyes _or nose_. When the lights were switched on he suddenly wished they'd all stayed in the dark instead.

_bad things lay here._ Rocket knew from the moment he'd stepped in to the room. It's cool refrigerated air and gleaming steel surfaces and several refrigeration units for tissue sample & medicine storage lining the far wall reminded him about a morgue and that other place from his early days of sentience which he'd rather had forgotten.

Scattered about the room at the gurneys and examination tables lay dozens of cadavers, mercifully hidden under plain white cloths. Rocket knew without looking; just by the stale coppery scent of blood in the air, that the tiny bodies under the cloths had either been cut open and examined in post mortem or in-vivo or had died to complications and were waiting for their turn to be cut open. It would have been even more macabre sight if the removed organs hadn't been stored somewhere out of sight. _Probably at the fridges built on the walls. All dead now just the same._ He thought fetching a ladder to reach higher before pulling away the cloth from one of the metal gurneys to see what lay underneath.

_"Oh frakk! you sick son ova-!"_ Rocket cursed grimacing in disgust from what he saw. The poor creature had once been a Raccoon, much like Rocket had once thought himself to have been before being 'augmented' but while its body shape was closer to natural quadruped animal than Rocket's its spine sure wasn't. The creatures backbone had practically been replaced with some kind of cybernetic 'harness'-thing and wires were coming out from its back and the hole at the base of its skull. He could see the actual small brain if he followed the wires with his gaze as a piece of the creatures skull was missing or more appropriately they likely hadn't been bothered with sealing up the skull after procedure since it had probably died during or soon after it. Rocket turned his head around when he heard dry retching from his company. Peter and Jcaan had similarly revealed another corpse for closer look, which was even more ghoulish epitome of technological nightmare fuel than the one Rocket had unveiled. Dibar, their senior medical officer -used to blood and guts as he was, was hastily covering the creature before Jcaan & Star-lord would actually pass out or puke on the floor.

"Couldn't stomach the guts, huh?" Rocket grinned gleefully.

"Uhh, shit man... I'll never understand how you or anyone at all could have survived from being experimented like this and not turn out totally screwed." Peter said hoarsely still fighting to keep his lunch inside. Jcaan nods leaning wearily against the gurney though he was very careful not to touch the blessedly re-covered tiny mound under the cloth.

"Life can be... Resilient and I'm no stranger to sights like this." Rocket comments mutedly. Only one who seemed outwardly calm besides Dibar was Groot but Rocket could easily read from his wooden face that he was almost as disturbed as Peter and Jcaan from the horror they had just seen. Rocket ignored his squeamish partners and grabbed a data pad from one of the side tables to see what the post-mortem autopsy had to say about the corpses.

_Subject P13 -83-P13-b Test trial success, gene splice success, termination during failed integration attempt. Autopsy pending results. See file 3467-b_

_subject P13 -83-P13-a Test trial success, gene splice success, self-termination after successful integration attempt. Autopsy complete. See file 3498-a_

And so on, the list went on and on and included copious notes, audio records, transcripts, pictures, diagrams and videos about gene-splicing, augment and implantation trials, vivisections, evaluation reports and the inevitable final autopsy reports done to those poor beasts... as many as ninety individual subject entries and their subfiles. Rocket felt his paws shaking as his emotions went rollercoaster . Those bastards! They had somehow gotten their hands on the Half-world uplifting-program research. It filled him with rage and nausea to see the program continued and twisted into something even more... unpleasant , causing other innocent creatures to be subjected to that same inhumane torturous treatment he'd gone through and survived with the skin of his teeth.

"Easy there big guy!" Peter hollered taking the pad from Rocket's hands just before he would have smashed it to pieces in a fit of rage, to which Rocket responded with an annoyed screech of protest.

"Oh my- GOD. This shit is just... Nasty!" Peter yelped once he saw what had made Rocket so mad and passed the pad to Jcaan, Groot and Dibar respectively, each having different but similarly disgusted looks on their faces.

"We're gonna torch this lab... Make it look like an accident or don't, I don't give a flying furtrak as long as it's all gone. I don't trust this shit to anyone." Rocket orders adamantly. Jcaan and Dibar nod and after a moment Groot agrees as well.

"Not even Nova?" Peter asks lifting an inquiring eyebrow.

"What, you took a double dose of naive-pills this morning, Quill? Frakkin' Nova forces were the ones that funded the original Half-world research, you idget!" Rocket practically screeches in anger.

"The fuck I was supposed to know that? It's not like you've ever really discussed with me about that little hellhole you were born in." Peter protested.

"It's sensitive, and I wasn't born there just - _made_. I've never really asked about your birth or family either and we've known for forty years." Rocket huffs.

Peter stares at Rocket for a moment before giving it up. "fine, have it your way then but what the hell is this _integration_ that keeps popping up with each report." Rocket glared at Peter and snatched the data pad back, scrolling the screen down some more.

"Some kind of cyber- da fug? Right, this shit just keeps getting better guys- it has to do with that robot thing at the launch pad bay." Rocket sighs raking his fingers through his facial fur in distress.

"I can only imagine." Peter mutters sourly.

"And another thing... is this." Rocket noted pointing at the corpse on the table next to him.

"At least they haven't opened it yet." Peter sighs in relief when Rocket pulls back the sheet and they all come gathering to look what Rocket was pointing at.

"I don't see it?" Jcaan asks after a moment. Groot and Peter share a glance but it's Dibar who spells it out. "The implants on the vertebrae? They're almost exact the same kind as the ones in your back sir."

"I am Groot?"

"Indeed, the medics have my full files in case of emergency Groot. Now I didn't connect the dots right away because I really don't like to look at or even think of my cybernetics that much, especially the ones that are part of my vertebrae. I'm not full hundred percent sure but I'm starting to understand what's been going on here... And I don't like it a one bit."

"Let me guess, biological components for that war robot-thing?" Star-lord guessed almost immediately to which Rocket nodded gravely.

"Uhh, good thing we stopped Knife when we did." Jcaan noted scratching his head.

"I'm not sure it's Knife's plan at all, dad's never been even remotely scientific in regards to almost anything besides statecraft. Could be the pet project of the one funding this and J'son really is just the middle man. No way he could have had the time to arrange all this within mere weeks or while still cooling at the Kyln." Star-lord comments with a thoughtful expression.

"Only one way to be sure. " Rocket grunts pocketing the data pad.

"Oh, by the by, there's going to be a sudden catastrophic fire in this lab as soon as we leave. If you want souvenirs, better get them now." He declares grimly holding a conspicuous metal cylinder in his paws.

* * *

"Frakk it, why can't there be a fricking elevator here?" Rocket cursed loudly, scaling up the seemingly endless ladders and stairs on the scaffoldings to reach the giant robot's head and upper torso some 200ft up from the floor. Groot had been too big to use the ladders and had opted to wait down below.

"Just shut the flark up and climb." Peter wheezed behind him and butted him upwards with his arm to encourage faster climb.

"Sir, we found the lift. It was obscured behind the right leg at the bottom of the missile launch pit." Came the call from Rodas into Rocket's comm. "Now his telling me." Rocket grumbled resuming his climb in more frisky pace.

"Fuck me and thank god we can at least get a ride back down." Peter wheezed sweating and pulling ragged gasps on his knees at the top platform after the climb up.

"Gaah! Come on cybernetically enhanced ticker, don't fail me now." Rocket wheezed panting and chest heaving alarmingly fast from exhaustion, pink tongue lolling out as he desperately gasped for air and tried to cool himself since raccoonoids didn't sweat to cool themselves the way most humanoid races could.

2nd ensign Rodas knelt beside Rocket to help him climb back to his feet. "I'll be all right but thanks anyway Ansel." Rocket said pushing the offered help away. A few meters to his left Star-lord did the same to Xerth and rose shakily back to his feet.

At this close the green metallic hued Robot seemed even more impressive. The topmost platform ran just about level with its shoulders making access easy for studying the head several meters above via long ladders propped against its temples. A man-sized hatch was visible and open at the robots chest. Closer inspection revealed it to be a covering for some sort of direct neural interface. Rocket surmised from the relatively crude workmanship contrasting with the original, that the current crop of scientists had hastily reformed the systems to accommodate for their smaller than original guinea pigs stature.

"You know what people... This sure as hell ain't anything contemporary if I've guessed right." Rocket frowned studying the robots metallic surface and pulled out his plasma knife.

"How so? Kree make sentinels all the time and they aren't much smaller than this thing is." Star-lord asked caressing the robots metal surface with his naked palm. "Strange, it feels warm." He comments puzzled.

"It fits to my theory about all this." Rocket muses striking with his plasma knife, that was designed to cut through almost anything, at the robots shining 'skin' with full force. The knife spat and sputtered sending sparks everywhere before petering out without doing any conceivable damage to the robot.

"Fracking hell! Great maker's mercy! That really fracking hurt!" Rocket yelled dropping the knife with a string of additional curses in languages so obscure that Star-lord's chip couldn't even translate them, holding his right arm by the wrist knuckles paling while it went through excruciatingly painful involuntary spasms.

"Wow, okay that's some serious armouring right there." Peter whistled loudly at the effect it had on Rocket's plasma knife.

"No shit Sherlock! I just got hit by field harmonic resonation and that proves this Frakk ain't some ordinary battle robot or a cheap Kree-sentinel clone, it's a freaking half-dead Celestial or something close enough through and through even if it's tiny one at that." Rocket spat still trying to stop the painful spasm.

"If you already knew, then why the hell did you stab the thing with your plasma knife in the first place?"

"Had to make sure... Didn't quite expect the backlash to be so-, nghh-." Rocket panted in pain.

"Okay, so what the fuck we're going to do with the thing?"

"N-nothing, it's too big to be moved and I doubt even a fusion warhead would break it."

"Not even..?" Peter guessed articulating with his hands and momentarily locking eyes with Rocket.

"Not even C-beams or my old number six special, not even close, and to reiterate, I think it's still alive in its own way." Rocket confirmed slowly opening and closing the palm of his injured hand as the spasm slowly faded.

"Alive?"

"Well duh! If it were plain dead instead of comatose, stasis or something -whatever the heck these things are in when they're conked out but not really dead, we could dig, mine and chop it just like the Tivan group does with Knowhere, dumbass. I'm not the foremost expert in cybernetic engineering but I think I know enough that I've figured out their plan fully now. "

"and those animals..."

"-Were meant to facilitate access to it or fix something about it to make it mobile again and I was probably meant to be used on something similar originally but somebody changed the plans along the way for my obvious benefit. I bet that if you'd check, those interface sockets would fit perfectly to what's in my back. They were going to get this thing moving by jacking one of those now dead beasts into it and would then use the machine through them via some kind of remote systems wired directly into their brain & central nerves. I suspect it requires a living being to interface with it, I can't think of any other reason why they would use... _them_ to gain access instead of just a simple cloned DNA-samples." Rocket finished pointedly avoiding the R-word. He released his death grip from his injured wrist before collecting his now lifeless and drained plasma knife.

"Oh crap. Just think Knife with something like this in his possession, he could conquer half the galaxy with it."

"Or at least Spartax, I'm sure." Rocket agreed.

* * *

"So no Knife but plenty of suspects, minimal casualties and plenty of freed slaves, not bad in my opinion despite their labs having burned down probably with all their research. I wish all stings we do would go as smooth as this one despite that small detail." Nova Windholme noted sternly and waved them to have refreshments from the drink banquet set at the side table.

"Yeah not too bad, however the holo-trap's signal was pretty distorted but I think we've managed to get it cleaned enough to give us a lead, couldn't have done it without your boys." Rocket grumbles twirling a glass of lilac non alcoholic juice-mix at his paws clearly disliking the fact that he had actually needed help from Nova corps tech crew to make something out of the weird jumble of signals.

"Beats blindly taking coordinates and realizing that you're about to jump into a black hole while on mid-point of hyper jump, you know." Star-lord offered deciding to opt for coffee from the drink banquet instead of the lilac fruit juice whose origins or taste he had no idea. _It's probably something wildly exotic that tastes like Badoon's arm pit anyway_ he figured in mild distaste.

"It's from a fruit called plum, I think it's Terran. Funny taste though. Might get to like it." Rocket tells reading  to Star-lord from a small label at the tray who merely shrugs "Ohh, okay" at the information.

"yes, It's made from one of the new fruits from Delta-worlds. They've come to fashion after several export bans were recently lifted for import to Xandar-sectors. So what about that... Giant robot thing and those vivisected animals?" Windholme asked after awhile and really wasn't beaming any more.

"Not a frakkin' clue and I don't even want to have but I'll let you know when I've taken an actual look on what we found before it all went to hell." Rocket lied suavely and Windholme nodded turning her scrutiny on Star-lord.

"Beats me, I'm a space jockey not an engineer." Star-lord lied just as smoothly. Windholme frowned laying his eyes on Groot.

"I am Groot." _I've nothing to hide but I still can't lie for shit._ Groot said laying a pleading glance at Rocket."

"He says his a hyper positional and spatial engineering theorist with a diploma but machines aren't his forte." Rocket covers without a hitch.

"I trust that in time you'll deliver us copies from your research transcripts and mission reports Grand Admiral Rocket?" Windholme asked suddenly sounding quite less cheery.

"Naturally. Now, we should probably get back to our ship and prepare for the next phase of plan?" Rocket offered slightly too fast for it to be inconspicuous.

"A prudent action. I'm sure you'll find your own way out?" Something told them that Windholme hadn't been fooled at all and neither was she pleased at being kept in the dark in this manner.

* * *

 

Rocket & Peter had both changed back to simple slacks & T-shirt and were relaxing at the common area with few bottles of beer shared between them. Rocket had placed himself cosily on Groot's shoulder. "You got a minute now Pete? There's something I need to speak with you." He asked quietly from Peter when they had a moment together after briefing everyone about their new course and goal.

"Yeah, sure. What's in your mind Rocky?"

"If you laugh, I'm going to kill ya' right in da face..." Rocket starts with a hiss.

"I'm not laughing, man. Promise." Peter assures holding palms up in front of him as a gesture of peace.

Rocket glares at him for a moment and lets it out of his chest. "I think I saw Gamora at the base."

"You what? Sure you haven't hit your head or getting ill?" Peter blinks, this was not what he had expected at all.

"I am Groot?" Groot comments looking at Rocket with concern.

"There's nothing wrong with my head, my mod's or my general health, you assholes! I know what I saw and it was her for frakk sakes. Scent, voice and even her touch." Rocket screeches waving his beer bottle agitatedly, rising to stand up at Groot's shoulder with his tail erect and fur puffing up.

"All right, all right, I believe you, just calm down man." Peter soothes and reaches to take the empty bottle from him and sets it down on the table before Rocket has a chance to go ballistic with it.

"I am Gr-oot?" Groot croons reaching with a vine to scratch behind Rockets ears in the way he knew as best means to soothe him.

Rocket huffed and puffed a few moments more before calming back down and answering to Groot's question. "What did she do? She didn't do frakkin' anything; ruffled my guard hairs and told me not to touch one of the wires because the thing was booby-trapped in case of tampering and then she was gone, just like that and the creepy thing is that she was right!" Rocket elaborates by pantomiming *poof* with his tiny clawed hands while talking.

"Yeah, okay that's pretty creepy shit right there." Peter admitted with a slight frown. "So what are we supposed to do about it, you've got any idea why she would have stayed dead for 6 years to us?"

"Do I? We didn't even have the time for chat. I don't believe in no ghosts... But I'm sure we can ask her to stay for tea and biscuits and explain the next time she shows again." Rocket replies sarcastically. Groot flicks Rocket's ear a little with his vine for the uncalled sarcasm.

"That's not how I meant it and you know it." Peter replies.

"I know, look I've no idea why she would appear to me after all these years but the warning was for real AND the playback from my retinal implant recordings prove that she wasn't some figment ... That's all I know." Rocket sighs deflated.

"I am Groot." Groot asks demandingly from Rocket.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll let you two know if I she appears again." Rocket promises sounding slightly apologetic in regards to something Groot had said. Rocket clambers down to floor from his perch at Groot's shoulder when they leave abandoning Peter alone to handle his shift at the cockpit.

Star-lord stares at nothing for a good while thinking of what Rocket had revealed. he'd once been engaged romantically with Gamora and they'd remained close friends even after the passion had faded. How was he supposed to feel, if she was alive? it had taken long enough to accept that she was dead _. "I guess I'll always be a little bit in love with her."_ He realizes misty-eyed and gets another beer from the fridge to wash the thought down.

 


	12. Signal dispersion

## Signal dispersion

## Ch 11

 

**Milky way Galaxy, Alpha-6 quadrant - Uncharted cluster near Spartax space.**

**12h later**

 

"Well there's our frackin' problem. No wonder the computers kept giving weird signal readings. No shit it's distorted; it's because of that damn thing rotating off-kilter with the planetary orbit and I was trying to match it to geostationary satellite or ground based transmission fades." Rocket announced sounding almost proud.

"Huh wow? Dad really seems to have a thing for those damn space whales." Peter comments squinting with a frown at the space faring baleen whale like creature floating effortlessly at the gravity streams.

"Oh man, I'd forgotten how big those things are." Rocket sighs in slight awe. As well as he should be when seeing a creature big enough to carry the whole palace on its back as it slowly floated in to view from the planet's shadow.

"Oh good, I think it's his old palace actually... damn, I wonder how long it's been floating abandoned around here? Bet the rent would have been negotiable." Star-lord snickers.

"Should make this a lot easier if you've been there before. Time to make a house call." Rocket comments flicking his ears back and forth a little which Star-lord had learned to mean that Rocket was already thinking hard for a plan.

* * *

"Don't you love it when a plan comes together even though it's not yours?" Star-lord smirked at the sight of twenty Nova-cruisers flattening the palace point defences. Many of the mercenaries that J'son had managed to hire attempted to flee with any and all crafts they could make spaceworthy as soon as Nova had come calling. They were mercenaries not oath bound soldiers, which was exactly what Rocket had relied on when making their overall plan. Show enough force and they'll put one and two together and hightail it if given the chance and fighting against Nova cruisers with nothing but modified scout ships at best was one of the more productive ways of conducting suicide. Most ships trying to flee the blockade were disabled by Nova but not all and they would have to be tagged and hunted down later.

"I still don't like the idea of you and Grand Admiral leading the charge. There's still a lot of men inside that palace and they'll fight hard because they have nowhere to run." Jcaan comments displeased.

"I've been at tougher places -KRRZT. " Rocket snorts testing his old helmet's seals and outer speaker. While his grey combat armor had adequate protection from projectiles and airborne threats such as gases and smoke, it wasn't insulated enough for space anymore; having been damaged at the previous battle, leaving Rocket to rely on his old black Guardian suit with red highlights. Not that Rocket really minded, he secretly enjoyed the nostalgia of wearing it.

"I am aware, sir. Is there no assuaging you to reconsider?" Jcaan almost pleaded now.

"Fine, we'll wait until Nova corps have established a breach before following in BUT you'll owe me." Rocket grunts annoyed.

"I am Groot." Groot nods in agreement with Jcaan.

"Well Frakk you too Groot and don't you dare to say a word Star-dork!" Rocket grumbles angrily tucking his helmet under his arm before stalking off ears flat against skull and tail stiff like a post.

"He really has mellowed out a lot...Not that I'm complaining really. He could be such a PiTa back then." Star-lord grins turning his attention momentarily on contacting Nova about the slight change of plans.

"He has mellowed?" Jcaan asks with a frown. Mellow wasn't the term he'd have associated with the Grand Admiral.

"Oh yeah, ten- to twenty- years ago he'd have had a real fit and probably would have chewed your face off for suggesting that he shouldn't be allowed to the front because he might get hurt and boy did he ever..." Star-lord chuckles again with a smirk.

Groot gives a disapproving look at Star-lord before going after Rocket.

* * *

"I'm fine! Just go do -whatever it is that you do when you're not breathing down on my neck" Rocket barks angrily while tinkering with something which looked very much like a hand grenade at his old workshop-space under the cockpit stairs. Groot wasn't fooled, he knew that half the reason for Rocket to tinker with weapons and machinery was to get his nerves under control. Building things was as much as work as it was a stress ball for Rocket and right now the furry weapon master was putting together an elentium-cored fusion charge.

"I am Groot!" _No you're not, look I've put up with this for decades mainly because you're the best friend one could ever hope for but really you have to stop shielding behind your ableisms and realize it's not always about belittling you when you're not allowed to do something. Some people besides me actually; you know -care about you as well._

"Ablei-? What? I've never shielded behind _that."_ Rocket spurts indignantly turning in his chair to look at Groot.

"I am Groot." _That is also true, quite the opposite really. The next best way to get under your skin has always been telling you what you can't or aren't supposed to do._

"Oh yeah? Well krutack you Groot!" Rocket growls crudely but he knows Groot to be right as always.

"I am Groot" _I would if I only had the organs like you fleshly beings, though I could always grow something to compensate._ Groot huffs sarcastically.

"Am I going to have to deal with your morning wood from now on?" Rocket chuckles unable to resist the lame pun to which Groot merely smiles, not to pun but the fact that he'd managed to stop Rocket's moping and tinkering with the bomb. He really didn't like seeing Rocket upset any more than he liked him building yet another fusion charge inside The Milano. He hadn't forgotten the last time Rocket had nearly destroyed the ship with one of his creations by fumbling up with the assembly because of emotional distraught.

* * *

So far so good. they might yet make it, _damn, go back! Go back_! The entry hall had been almost deserted but a sudden burst of noises had alerted them just in time to scramble for safety. He waved with his hand to his cohorts indicating them to keep still when a group; maybe twenty men judging by the steps, rushing by just outside the door of barely big enough closet for the fourteen of them to be cramped inside. He listened a moment longer before cracking the door ajar a bit to peek outside. He waved his men forward when no sign of Novas was seen at the hall, leading them stealthily back to entry hall.

Scanning the hall momentarily the golden haired man found his mark and pointed it to his Badoon compatriot.

The Badoon was surprisingly stealthy despite being a hulking lizard-like alien in shiny segmented brass hued metallic armor, J'son noted dryly after the said Badoon had sneaked up from behind and quietly dispatched the two rear guards Nova had left to guard some of their attack shuttles. They could pull it off if they'd manage to board something better equipped to deal with long voyages once they were out in space. It was a risk but a risk he was willing to take over another century in jail.

"Ship's Secure Mr. Knife."His adjutant announced when he climbed aboard with his personal contingent of 12 guards.

"Good, let's get out of here. We'll figure out later how they managed find us so fast."

The Badoon nods and pulls a few switches in the dash which causes the ship to launch out in to space once they've been able to fit in and reduce the weight of too many people inside; by prying loose all they could rip out without tools including hatches, grilles, provisions, benches and furnishing to be piled outside beside the two dead Nova guards.

"I don't think we can sneak past the stockade with this short range vessel, but I bet that one will do nicely..." J'son said pointing at the vintage blue & yellow painted, Ravager-themed M-class Badoon ship which he knew all too well. His adjutant gave a toothy crocodile smile guiding their ship closer, he also recognized the vessel.

* * *

 At the Milano, Peter studied the approaching Nova boarding frigate with slight interest and opened the hail frequency. _They shouldn't have any interest to be heading our direction._

"This is the Milano, what's your purpose Nova frigate." a moment of silence followed before reply.

"We're bringing over a freed prisoner who may have vital information which he claims to reveal only you." Peter thought the message was sounding dubious. Anything like this should have been processed through Nova command first but that craft shouldn't fit more than five people in it anyway, so the risk of being successfully boarded by 4 or 5 hostiles was probably abysmal and frankly a product of mere paranoia.

"Alright, take the center hatch and prepare for docking in five." He announced switching the Milano from idle-state to automated docking & coupling sequence before leaving the cockpit to see what kind of prisoner they were bringing aboard.

* * *

"I don't know if I should be disappointed or happy that my son is such a gullible fool." J'son sighed charging up his laser carbine while waiting the two ships to finish their automated handshake & docking routines.

"Show time! And remember we need them alive at least in some form. Dead are no good as leverage." He announced when a heavy hiss was heard and a row of blinking red lights rimming the hatch turned green informing them that the cabin pressures between ships had been equalized and the pressure locks could be opened.

* * *

"Three minutes to decide rodent, before I start laying waste your men!" J'son yelled up to the stairwell situated at his right. Two bodies of his marauders already littered the stairs and he wasn't going to be next by sticking himself out too much.

To say that Rocket was pissed would have been an understatement right now. He gritted his teeth trying to peer down beyond the corner at stairwell leading to lower levels of the ship. He wasn't so much frustrated about  their ship being boarded by hostiles but for the fact that he could have easily fragged a whole bunch of those marauders to downstairs with minimal damage to the ship itself. The rub was the fact that J'son's goons now had Peter and their injured men as captives and he'd had bet his life that killing J'son or his ugly Badoon pal would incite wholesale bloodbath of hostages as a retaliation.

"I am Groot?" Groot whispered worriedly.

"I know and I fracking hate it." Rocket replied unable to find any favourable outcomes which didn't include surrender to J'son's nonexistent mercy or getting some of the hostages killed. First thing he'd done once being made aware that they'd been boarded had been to contact other ships of their situation which the fleet was already aware of, apparently. And even if they would get outside help it would be too dangerous for the hostages. J'son might kill them just for spite once he'd realize his situation as hopeless. His jail time wouldn't get any less for sure.

"No way we can take them all before at least one of them could pull the trigger and there's no chance of just charging down either." Jcaan surmised nervously. Rocket said nothing though certain cruel logic wormed at the back of his mind; _All losses in battle are acceptable if tactical objectives are completed and casualty rate doesn't jeopardize fulfilling strategic goals._

"I know. Hide some weapons & supplies for uprising once they think we've surrendered." _Assuming they won't start executing us on the spot._ Rocket orders Jcaan with a resigned sigh. _It's a losing strategy but the best I can come up with that might allow some of them to keep breathing._

"Time's up Guardians!" J'son yelled from below dragging unconscious but so far alive Star-lord in to view holding his limp form at gunpoint. ' _You have selected lethal force' ;_ J'son's gun informed promptly.

Rocket hesitated only a moment before throwing his gun clattering down the stairs yelling loudly. "We surrender! Drop your weapons boys!".

Down below J'son smiled wickedly.

* * *

 "Or'oog, bring the ring-tail here." J'son ordered the big Badoon who nodded and soon returned to the cockpit with Rocket; hands bound, muzzled and stripped down to his underwear, who had no qualms in showing through his body language how much he disliked the situation.

"Ah Mr. Rocket, I hear you're quite the pilot as well as strategist and since my dear son is regrettably... disabled at the moment and there's only you two in this ship who are familiar enough with an old M-class such as this- " J'son started smarmily cutting the polymer ropes binding Rockets wrists & muzzle with his knife.

"Frakk you, you psycho. Whad'da ya want from me?" Rocket growled ostensibly rubbing his wrists and nose bridge.

"You are going to fly us out of here; so far Nova has refrained from action but they'll soon tire of us and I'd rather be gone before that."J'son snorted half annoyed and half amused and pushed his gun right against Rocket's forehead. "Now also understand this _Grand_ _Admiral,_ frakk with me and I'll put hot light right through your gourd. So grab those controls and fly us out of here Right flarking NOW."

Rocket glared death at J'son but grabbed the controls and started pushing buttons and firing up the engines.

* * *

 At the bridge of _Righteous fury_ Nova Windholme studied the real-time telemetry data from the Milano, rubbing her chin in thought. It hadn't take them more than 10min to deduce that J'son had stolen one of their shuttles and boarded the Milano which the distress call had confirmed.

"Disable the ship, they're more likely to negotiate for surrender if they can't go anywhere." She ordered and three new blips appeared on tactical screen speeding towards the Milano. Suddenly two Milano's seemed to appear on the tactical and the old M-class patrol cruiser did something which left even Windholme who'd earned her spurs in dogfights stunned and slack jawed.

"Did it just do a barrel roll while simultaneously making 180-turn and then banked left making the missiles hit the shuttle that was tethered to it instead?" she asked from no one in particular as the Milano's 'blotch' seemed to enlarge and then blink away from the tactical indicating that it had engaged its hyperdrive. At least the pilot had had the courtesy of pointing his engines singularity blowback away from their fleet.

"I believe so ma'am. It seems that those old case files of Centurion Gregan Yar about Grand Admiral Rocket's skills in piloting weren't an exaggeration." her adjutant answered with slight awe. An old Badoon medium-class multipurpose patrol ship like Milano was just not supposed to do things like that.

"How do you know it's him piloting the ship?" Windholme asked turning to her adjutant's direction.

Adjutant nodded and hit the playback showing close-up of the ship. Some of the lights were blinking suspiciously in order.

 _-Is RR- follow (negative)-hostages-deep scan finds- us dead (negative)-hostile twelve (positive)_ -

"very clever of him to use our old naval signal codes." she agreed with a crooked smile.

"Get the deep space scanners out. I want them found as soon as they drop out of hyper. _Or we're all in deep shit. Grand Admiral Rocket had technically been a visitor with diplomatic status under Nova's care and if anything happened to him or his entourage... Dey as her superior would go down with her for allowing the Grand Admiral to participate in these sting op's even when it had been the Admirals own wish. Frakk politics._

 


	13. Dying for the world

## Dying for the world

## Ch 12

 

"I think we can handle things from here on. Hands forward and no tricks." J'son ordered Rocket tying his hands again, but this time he used durasteel cable ties instead of polymer ropes. The course Rocket had been told to set was to Hovito-system at Badoon space where Nova had no jurisdiction or business without risking a war. Rocket glared daggers at the man but complied with minimal fuss. There was no point in tempting fate which he'd already done plenty when J'son or his goons hadn't been looking. Or'oog grabbed him off the pilot's chair half carrying, half dragging him by the scruff of the neck

"I'm walking here, I'm walking here you frakk-head!" Rocket protested without much effect to his manhandling. Or'oog paid no mind to Rocket's protests tucking him under his arm like a luggage and shortly dumped him rather undignified back with the other hostages at the cargo hold.

_Frakkin' durasteel. Of all the binders. Assholes!_ Rocket cursed in his mind. he was fairly sure J'son couldn't know that he no longer had natural teeth but an artificial set due to his combat injuries, which could chew through almost anything except durasteel, adamantium, vibranium and certain diamond analogues.

"I hid some of the weapons into vents at your old cabins, didn't have time to be choosy. You've any idea where they're heading?" J'caan asked quietly. Peter had stirred at his corner when Rocket was brought back and leaned closer to listen what was being said.

"Hovito-9, it's a small Badoon colony outpost some distance from here but what matters is that the Nova can't follow us there and that they've a regional slave market there. Once we're taken in we'll disappear without a trace."

"I am Groot?"

"I've bought us some time by tampering with the ships inner clock and navigation... Luckily none of our captors were as good as I am at astronavigation. We'll have 15 hours instead of 9 at most which is just enough to force our captors into pulling shifts at guarding us or risk them falling asleep, giving us more time to get rid of these binds and get our ship back." Rocket relates glancing at the guards direction and noticing that all prisoners now had the same unbreakable binds. _So it wasn't just because of me. He isn't taking chances. The D'astard is probably selling us just to rub it in on Nova's face and to line his pockets with a bit of extra kredits. Then again had J'son not needed the kred's we might have all been thrown off the air-lock by now._

"I can work with that." Peter muttered weakly, falling back to corner he'd been slumped in by their captors to recover from his concussion.

"No talking!" The five guards watching them grunted loudly and started to kick their group apart which was just as fine for them since it would only aid them to get some sleep now and be well-rested before taking action after shift change.

"Hey, ah I'd really need to use the bathroom people." Peter asked trying to look sheepish and in need.

The guards eyed him up and down before replying with a sneer. "Ha! Just make a dump on the corner, it's not like this piece of frakk ship would get any worse from it."

"Assholes! You could have at least given a krutacking bucket." Peter growled at the insult but closed his mouth and sat back down on the floor pinching his thighs together when the guards turned to look at him with their weapons raised & ready.

"-Flarknards, -Krutacks." J'caan and Rocket whispered sharply.

"Get me that blanket Groot. It's frakkin' cold laying down here." Rocket sighs tiredly setting himself next to vent that circulated warm air from the thruster engines to heat the ship.

"I am Groot." _Just say when and I'll kill them all. Projectiles and lasers mean little to me._ Groot promised laying the blanket over Rocket. The only reason he had refrained from action was the fact that Rocket had been temporarily separated from the group. He would now wait for Rocket to say when, his furry charge always had a plan and Groot had learned to trust them.

Rocket whispered quietly glancing at Groot. "You're not immortal though, that many guns WILL grind down even you, especially now when they've raided the armory and have probably hacked open at least some of the bio-locks in my guns. I'll set myself to wake after six hours -I need some real sleep; I'll then chew my way through one of those vent grills and get myself weapons to create a diversion while you've created a decoy from your vines that's about my shape under the blankets. "

"You'll know when to act Peter." Rocket tells Peter. Groot lifts up his 'thumb' in response and Peter mumbles his agreement with J'caan. Rocket's better guns onboard all had palm print and DNA locks but even his 'weaker' guns were weak only in comparison to their off-the shelf market versions and the topic hadn't even touched his grenade 'collection' yet. It was safe to assume that J'son's goons now had a lot more firepower and wouldn't be afraid of using it.

* * *

"I think we should split them into separate groups boss. I've handled slave shipments before and they're up to something. I can just feel it." Or'oog grunted taking a sip from a bottle belonging to Star-lord's special Terran whiskey stock; it wasn't bad but kind a mild and could have used more kick if you'd ask the hulking Badoon's opinion. Which no one did for the time being. J'son glanced up from the huge weapon he'd raided from the ship armory, eyes following Or'oog pouring some of that whiskey in to glass for himself as well.

"To do what? They have nowhere to run and we've enough firepower to blow even the tree into kindle with just a few shots now, Though you're probably right and we should divide them. Nothing like being thorough when it comes to securing that lot." J'son agrees twirling the glass to see the color and consistency of the liquor. He sniffs at it sipping the potent booze thoughtfully; sure this smoky & salty flavor with strong note of peat wasn't his favorite but he knew he was drinking something good and admitted to himself that his son's taste in booze was perhaps surprisingly something he'd call quite refined.

"Separate them first thing in the morning at the shift change before we make planetfall to Hovito-9 just to be on the safe side. Last thing I want is to lose merchandise right when they're about to be evaluated and sold..." J'son agreed testing the trigger mechanism of the gun which's gene-lock he'd just by-passed open.

* * *

Rocket woke up with a start after exactly six hours; his bionic- internal body clock acting as his personal alarm along with its other more vital functions in body regulation. He glanced frantically around him before catching on and realizing that he was wrapped up in blanket and laying comfortably at Groot's lap.

"Anything happened while I was out?" he asked rubbing sleepiness from his eyes.

"I am Groot" _Nope, they haven't noticed your tamper nor changed shift yet, you're ready for work now?"_

"Yeah, let's do this." Rocket nods enthusiastically and sets to work on the grill behind Groots back as soon as the guards weren't looking while Groot would make the decoy and mask any noise with some 'woody sounds' by growing fruits, flowers and twigs to pass around with the group since their captors hadn't bothered to feed them at all.

"Gonna leave a clear hole... Yuck this vent hasn't been cleaned for like forty years; make sure somebody sits over the hole to cover it Groot." Rocket whispers spitting out the metal chips from his mouth and quickly disappears into vents through the hole he'd chewed with his teeth.

It was a tight fit even for him but he'd manage by pulling himself forward with his elbows. He grit his teeth ignoring the years of greasy dust sticking to his fur that wanted to make him sneeze, and the pain from binders cutting into his flesh as he crawled forward until turning right at the crossing. This particular vent would slope upwards ending to open space at the second floor which had once been used as a small training area and secondary cargo space, from there he'd need to reach another series of vents to get into actual living quarters, but right now he needed a plasma cutter to get rid of the bind around his wrists.

Rocket listened intently behind the grill for any noises from the bay for full minute before risking to work the grill loose without tools. He'd need to cover his tracks or the whole plan would be jeopardized so simply using his teeth on everything was out of the question; luckily that particular grill had always been a little loose because of being banged at so often when loading cargo that it was too misshapen to fit in place like it should any more. Rummaging through the dusty crates to find what he needed didn't take long with Rocket's unalterable memory. There had been many times when he'd just wanted to forget but was unable due to his modifications and times like this when he was glad he had them.

Rocket worked quickly to get his binds off, hissing in pain when the business end of the hot unwieldy torch brushed his wrist making the whole room momentarily fill with the smell of burnt fur. Rocket wiped the tears of pain from his eyes and wrapped a piece of cloth around the burn lesions before retreating back to vent with the tools. Next stop; guns, high explosives and some delayed sabotage... he'd worry about the burn later.

* * *

Star-lord frowned at the guards direction. They had bunched up together in conspiratory manner, talking head-to-head at the only doorway from the cargo hold to access well-space that led to second level via stairs. Something was definitely up.

His concerns were answered when the guards started pushing everyone up and herded them to stand up in two lines against the opposite walls... Oh shit, Rocket wasn't back yet! He gulped and readied for action he knew to be needed the moment the guards would notice that the blanket wrapped bundle in Groot's lap wasn't Rocket.

Predictably it took only a moment for the ten guards to realize that it was just a bunch of twigs...

"Where is IT? Answer me or we'll shoot you right here and now! Or maybe we'll start with your friends over here..." They threatened to which Groot merely indignantly huffed "I am Groot".

There was a low boom-like sound and the whole ship went dark just as the guards were about to do the sensible thing and alert J'son & Or'oog. The ship started to shudder in a very specific pattern which any experienced spacer knew to mean that the ship was dropping out of hyperspace. The complete darkness ended almost before it had started when the emergency lights kicked in bathing everything in blood red glow.

Star-lord blinked, hesitating only a fraction of a second before yelling "Now Groot!" and kicked the closest guard in the groins, getting a very satisfying 'arrgh' as a result and started to wrestle him for the gun despite his bound wrists. He could see from the corner of his eye how Groot effortlessly waded into melee ignoring gun shots like mosquito bites and the Xarthians joining in on the fray with gusto born from hope and injured pride.

* * *

"What the hell was that noise?"J'son cursed jumping up from his light snooze at the couch in the common area. He glanced around alarmed, everything was bathed in the reddish hue of emergency lights. He wasted no time wondering though and ran up to cockpit where Or'oog was furiously trying to restore the lighting and figure out what has just happened.

"I don't know boss, suddenly all readings jumped up and then went down... We're dropping out of hyper in about 3min. If I didn't know better I'd say our drive was either disconnected or-"

"-Blown out. It's Peter... And his -pet beast! Grab your guns Or'oog we've a slave mutiny at our hands." J'son Finished with a grim expression and cocked the huge gun he'd hacked open earlier.

* * *

Star-lord huffed lightly, crouching at the floor, checking the weapon he'd taken from the guard he'd just killed. Pretty standard infantry weapon with 2/3 full clip. It would serve fine, he thought and cocked the gun as he rose up from his crouch. The others were similarly busy with stripping the painful durasteel binds from their wrists and checking out weapons or injuries.

"Can't be that many left, I don't recall more than a score of them boarding us." He comments counting the number of bodies at the cargo hold.

"All the better." J'caan spat clearly spoiling for more. Star-lord nodded wolfishly and started to climb the stairs first.

It seemed that they really had gotten them all and the path to cockpit looked clear when no one came to check the situation despite the scuffle and noise they had made. Unfortunately they had no idea where Rocket had gone which made Groot edgy and rather insistent on being the first. the tree man turned around the corner at the short hallway that led to the common area when a burst of energy cost him his arm, disintegrating it in most painful looking manner.

"I am Groot!" He muttered angrily as he jumped back to cover, already growing a replacement.

"Damn, it could have been your head." Peter whispered peeking very carefully behind the corner, pulling his head out of sight just in time for another shot from somewhat less powerful weapon soaring past him.

"Okay, I think we got J'son and his pet lizard holed up at the cockpit and I'd rather not risk damaging the instruments or my dear old pa' in there. So no frickin' grenades please, people." Star-lord reminded everyone.

"Well how are we going to get them out? I doubt they'll just surrender." Dibar commented putting away the grenade he'd taken from one of their captors.

* * *

Rocket had no trouble picking the sounds of gun fight from two floors up above him despite currently busying himself with the engines (which while running, made considerable noise) or any other sounds people made at the ship for that matter. His hearing was too good to miss any of them though he'd long ago learned to focus and separate only to sounds that mattered from all the background noises; for his own sanity*. Right now it sounded like his friends were stuck in a gunfight at the common area. _Well there's more than one way to skin a Flerken_ , Rocket thought and picked a vent he knew to lead to his workstation under the stairs.

* * *

 

"Any bright ideas?" J'son muttered while crouched behind the door at the short landing leading to the cockpit and keeping his eyes peeled on the doorframe at the back of the lounge like room that everyone called common area.

Or'oog sighed disappointedly. "None, these old Badoon M-ships don't have automated backup's installed like the modern cruisers. We'll have to fix things manually."

"Great, so we'll just have to waste those dozen Krutacks and my son blocking the _only_ doorway and you're sure there's no life shuttle hatch closer in here?" J'son asked as most ships had one for the pilots or at least EVA-suits and usually ones for the crew at the cargo bay or near designated emergency exit.

"Not in this old m-class, it's designed for only five so there's just that tiny craft next to cargo bay."

"Flarkin' hell... Well then, we're going to let them come to us. We've got all the good guns from the armory here, ships galley is closer to our side of the room and the ship's still moving and will reach Badoon space in about half an hour even if it can't jump and once there we can send out a broad scan distress call without worrying about Nova finding us." J'son grimaced as he laid out his plan, squeezing his weapon even harder at his sweaty palms and pushed the sliding door open a little bit more to widen his view and firing line.

_Wish it were always this easy. The D'astards are right where I want them to be._ Rocket grinned crawling out of the vent below the stairs and counted to five, cooking the nerve stun grenade, before throwing it over the stair balcony above his head into the cockpit when he heard the door above being creaked open. The grenade landed inside the cockpit with well rehearsed precision and very predictable results.

"Nice work Rocky!" Star-lord whooped from the other end of the room rushing forward with the others to secure J'son and Or'oog before they could recover.

"I am Groot" _I was sure you'd have used something more... Potent Rocket._ Groot replied using his vines as temporary restraints to hold their prisoners in place incase they'd wake up before being properly secured.

"Stun grenades don't break the hull or his skull..." Rocket shrugged, nonchalantly reminding his friends that while preferring J'son dead they still _needed_ him alive for questioning.

Suddenly the space outside in front and around their ship was filled with ships, Nova cruisers to be exact and the comms begun to flash just as their ship shuddered in a manner which Rocket knew to mean they were being tethered in place by tractor beams. He exchanged glances with Peter who hesitated only a moment before racing Rocket to be the first to answer the comm.

 

 

 

> *By the virtue of being a Raccoonoid, Rocket's hearing would have already been well above the norms of most intergalactic sentient life and the gruesome experiments done to him at half-world had raised the gap even higher. To the point where he could literally hear and separate the sound of pin being dropped on soft sand from a hundred yards away if he'd focus solely on hearing it, and while he would forever hate his tormentors for 'creating' him he'd also remember to thank them for their uncanny mastery of foresight when designing his systems and being able to mentally adjust the level and focus of his hearing as needed was one of them.


	14. Midway point

## Midway point

## Ch 13

 

"Well, we already knew the old krutack was a tough cookie, Pete." Rocket sighed standing on a chair propped against the wall, to be able to see above the rim of the privacy glass for J'son being interrogated for the fifth hour straight by Nova corps. The officers kept hammering the man with questions & veiled threats in equal measure without even a blink of response from the man except when he was willing to reply and J'son had been fairly forthcoming with pretty much everything but his actions after the escape from Kyln.

"Yeah and I'm suspecting that he isn't talking just to screw us up and for the pleasure in the knowledge of how much it must frustrate us." Peter sighed leaning on the glass.

"There are ways... to make a man talk Pete, even those hard-boiled types like Knife." Rocket contemplated quietly.

"you're not meaning..? Nova would never allow that." Peter said in slight alarm, sensing the sharp edge behind Rockets careful wording.

"Don't be such a pussy Quill, I was thinking of non-invasive techniques; though I do know several alternative interrogation methods to force a man to talk and loosely interpreted none of them can be classified as torture or intense coercion. They've worked equally well on Skrull spies and V'saine true-borne so they'll work on 'our guests' as well."

"And are just as forbidden by the Nova core conduct and statures about the care and interview of suspects. If it were about just me, I'd have already arranged for a team of telepaths to scourge their frakin' brains." Nova Windholme cursed walking out and closing the door to interrogation room coming to stand up behind them with a frustrated scowl. Beyond the glass J'son held his smug grin.

"And since his already detained here... You're obligated to make sure he doesn't _disappear,_ become _violated_ in any way or face unexpected _accidents."_ Rocket nods in understanding.

"Let me guess his Badoon 'pal' is equally tightlipped?" Quill asks not caring to hide his mounting frustration.

"That he is." Windholme sighs in annoyance equaling Quill's frustration.

"So what are we going to do with them?" Quill sighed.

"Send them back to Kyln to wait for the sentence & charge hearings, have them retrialed and that's about it; though the Interstellar Court of Xandar's ruling don't call for the invalidation of the verdicts or sentences for the men, or even mandate **retrials** , just reviews."

"That's not good enough. I want them to stew." Quill protested.

"It rarely is but it's the best we've got." Windholme admits resignedly and walks away hands clasped behind her back.

"And people wonder why I'm such a pro vigilante." Rocket huffs to no one in particular.

* * *

"What a frackin' waste of time Quill. Five days of running around like a bunch of eyeless _Koogah_ s* and still no closer to solving the identity of the fuckwit who hired Knife in trying to kill me." Rocket sighs crashing on the couch back at The Milano, feeling completely spent by the day's events.

"Yeah, kinda crappy but we did get my dad back in the slam. That's got to mean something, right?" Quill heaved leaning tiredly against the table opposite of Rocket.

"We're running out of time here, Pete. I need something -anything! to convince the senate to let me keep my job and this crap ain't cutting it."

"You mean _you_ are running out of time... Look I promised to do what I can and that's what I'll do, Rock. We'll discuss about this with the Nova bigwigs once we're back at Xandar. They might have heard something new while we were away even though they likely won't get involved in any other way. Trust me we're not giving up just yet." Peter heartened his friend.

"Thanks, I guess." Rocket sighs before dragging himself out of the common area to go to bed at his quarters instead of going out like a candle at the sofa as had been his first instinct.

* * *

Commander Essana Windholme kept her mouth in a tight line, escorting Grand Admiral Rocket the Raccoon and Peter Star-lord Quill to the meeting with Centurion Rhoman Dey and Nova prime Irani Rael at the Nova HQ. They were all wearing their dress uniforms; Rocket had his pearly white Xarth navy uniform, Windholme was wearing her snappy grey Nova uniform and Star-lord true to his ever irreverent ways had merely cleaned his boots, changed to clean shirt and brushed up his other garments. She wasn't expecting anything particularly dire from their meeting but these mission debriefs had always made her a little nervous, call it her tick if you will. The two guardsman on duty at the large double doors make a snappy salute when they approach. "They're expecting you ma'am, sirs." they note respectfully and swing the doors open to the main conference room.

"Kinda posh for just the three of us." Peter remarks offhand looking around at the rather opulent room with a view out into the city.

"I'm more interested about the why's. Prime's office would have sufficed just fine." Rocket shrugs not overly impressed with the setting. Then again he'd seen hundreds of such rooms and getting him exited would have required something fit for an emperor.

"In here." Windholme says directing their attention to the side doors which led into smaller rooms adjacent to the largest.

"Ah Guardians, Denarian. Please have a seat." Nova Prime greeted and gestured at the chairs in front of her desk. She looked pretty much the same as she had looked the last time Rocket had seen her which was half a decade ago, in her neat navy blue dress uniform, piercing gaze and pale pretzel hairdo bun, which wasn't all that surprising since Rigellians aged very slowly after certain point. They turned to look at Centurion Dey walking in and closing the door, carrying a small box.

"I've already received preliminary reports and finals should arrive tomorrow, so there's no need to go through that in detail but I'd still like to hear your assessments of events Guardians..." Rael said folding her hands in front of her atop the desk and leaning forward. Peter gave a quick glance to Rocket, both mentally tallying up which would go first.

"It started with some inquiries about this Arquan guy Lem. In a follow up we got some of Rocket's Xarthians hurt when Lem's goons obviously weren't too keen on us..." Peter begun.

"-And I figured that it would only be prudent to share some information and ask for backup from Nova corps to raid the main base since Lexor Lem is a citizen of Xandar and an obvious slave trader. Dey was kind enough to provide us a fleet support based on the information I'd given him. Rocket finished.

"Delan-3. Yes, I think you could have done it perhaps with a bit more tact Rocket but his business was worth shutting down none the less." Nova Prime nodded looking at the screen in front of her.

"In any event, things might have gone slightly pear shaped afterwards without Windholme's competent assistance and we did get what we came for which was getting J'son back behind bars." Rocket finished.

"Which are what we wished to hear." Dey announced handing the small box he was carrying to surprised Windholme. she opened the box and looked at insignia with a look of dread and wonder.

"Well... I, ah never...-" She muttered uncertain of what to say at the sudden promotion.

"Then don't say anything. Take a few days off and relax. Official promotion will be held in three days and I'd also wish for you to be present as well Guardians." Nova Prime said with almost motherly warmth.

The discussion then slowly drifted in to Rockets current tenure as grand Admiralty being at jeopardy and as Peter had suspected Nova & Xandar wouldn't really offer any help officially though Rael did offer some good diplomatic advice to Rocket borne out from her many years of leading the Nova corps. It also became clear that Nova despite their vast resources and information networks was just as stunted as Rocket & Peter were about the origins of the nanite bioweapons used against Rocket at Xarth as none of the bases they had raided had had no trace of the weapons. Bringing their investigation to one more dead end as long as J'son would refuse to talk unless the Kree archives would yield something more.

* * *

"Guess we'll have to make another visit to Hala." Peter concluded walking at the busy streets with Rocket in leisure since they weren't in any real hurry to go anywhere at this point.

"Yah, guess so though I keep thinking that we're having the wrong approach to this." Rocket sighs rubbing at the metal plates in his face in thought. "Look you go on back to hotel, I'll see you later. Pete." he said after a fashion, looking at the bars thoughtfully.

"You sure? I mean people have tried to kill you already and you really shouldn't drink alone." Peter protest mildly noticing rocket's gaze lingering at the alehouses lining the street they were walking at.

"look I'll be fine, allright? I'm not going to get wasted, just need some time on my own." Rocket scoffs at Peter's worries. Peter looks at Rocket as if willing to argue but drops it. "sure, just keep your comms on, okay?"

"yeah, yeah, I always do and tell Groot and my men not to worry. I don't need them to babysit or come after me either. " Rocket grumbles before walking away at the direction of the nearest bar -The boot of Exitar, which Peter quietly noted to be some kind of military men's regular hangout judging from the number of uniforms coming and going at the establishment.

The bar which Rocket had chosen; based on the fact that most of the clientele were military & Nova personnel ,as his go-to place to get a drink for the evening. It was fairly full as was usual at the end of work week in Xandar. Rocket made his way through the crowd, habitually careful at not being stepped on in his way to the bar and climbed up on the high stool, ordering for some Shi'ar Ale.

The pale skinned & bug eyed bartender nods in acknowledgement bringing Rocket his beer when another man stops him from taking Rocket's offered bill. "First one's on the house for vets." He notes not too unkindly to which Rocket had nothing against accepting the free beer with a quiet 'thanks' before turning his attention to the other customers. It was lively night, plenty of people milling about and looking to have a good time but it only made Rocket feel kind of lonely and strangely even out of place; making him wish he'd asked Groot, Peter or even some of the Xarthians to join him for a drink. _"Bah I'm just not really even in a mood and Groot's disapproval for drinking's got nothing to do with it..."_ Rocket mused while emptying his second glass of beer when something caught his eyes at the crowd. Maybe it was the way this guy was sitting at the corner alone and even shooing away people trying to approach him. The guy had been sitting with the same drink in front of him for the past half an hour but the way he seemed to flinch when he saw Rocket looking at him was a dead giveaway.

The man was remarkably unremarkable with nondescript civil clothing -making him standout at the sea of uniforms, blue skin and short hair, vaguely resembling a Kree though he wasn't as tall or muscled, Probably an Alpha-Centaurean then. Not all of them had that distinct red fin like Yondu and his people.

Rocket considered leaving the bar but he was getting bored, hopping down from the stool. He figured to turn the tables on the guy just for kicks and approached the stranger with measured steps, his half-empty glass in hand. Stranger's eyes widen ever so slightly and he rises from his chair opting for the quick exit through the door next to privy's aisle at the back. Rocket gave a toothy grin at the reaction, emptied his own and the man's untouched glass in quick gulps before setting the glasses on the nearest vacant table and followed him out. _Perhaps this night wasn't such a waste after all_.

* * *

Rocket pulled out the twin laser pistols he always carried with him as a back up and part of his uniform, as soon as he walked out in to the cool early night air at the narrow back alley barely big enough for a garbage vehicle to maneuver in. He could just smell that something wasn't as it should be and it wasn't just the garbage piles left uncollected due to public sanitarian strike. A wise move would have been to walk back in and call his boys to pick him up, but the man at the bar had piqued his interest and there were no sounds of running or walking away which meant that the man couldn't be far... or he was where he had been wanted to be lured. _Ohh frakk!_ Rocket realized with a grimace and made a quick somersault away from the spot he was standing at just as the nearest garbage cans exploded from being hit by some kind of beam weapon -or more precisely were pretty much just atomized without the usual blast. He knew a disruptor ray when he saw it and these guys weren't frakkin' kidding for coming after him with a one.

Rocket jumped from his current spot into another cover when another shot dissipated some of the garbage sacks in front and behind his previous spots. Rocket took a running leap against the wall and kicked himself up diagonally into air landing feet first against the opposite wall at the alley some six feet from the ground and heaved again hard upon contact with his legs, opening fire with both guns at mid-jump, landing smoothly on the cracked pavement just as his assailant let out a muddled gurgle before toppling forward into view from behind the garbage silo with several neat holes through his upper chest. He stood up chest heaving from exertion and walked up to the guy he'd just shot.

"Next life, learn to aim Gronard." Rocket grunted kicking the man to make sure he was really dead before putting away his guns but something about this whole thing still wasn't quite right. _Frakk this would hurt._ Rocket realized to his dismay, taking an instinctive sidestep, and the beam hit him on the left shoulder instead of right in the middle of his back. The force of the impact made him lose his balance but he recovered quickly and hopped back on his feet with a pained grunt only to get hit again and again... The alley was now a shooting gallery for the secondary back-up unit.

_Such an obvious set-up and I fell for it like a furtrakk rookie._ Rocket sighed fully aware that he'd been a fool to ever go after the man.

"Flark my life" He sighed crumbling down on his knees before falling down to lay on his back at the grimy pavement. Footsteps retreated and were replaced by the buzzing of insects and his slowly weakening gasps of air.

**_-Flicker-_ **

Rocket's empty stare regarded the darkening sky and the green skinned woman standing above him impassively, his eyes gradually glazing with the familiar slowly creeping numbness spreading through his body...

Things sure could have ended better today; what was so wrong with having a nice Timothy, barbeque ribs and good company? Instead he was lying down at a back alley of a cheap bar, tits up with guts piled up in his arms and waiting for the fast elevator to hell. He really hated the thought of dying in this way; shot to pieces, lying in a gutter at some frakk forsaken alley, soaked up by his own shit and blood, unable to move. An ignoble ending for the one with ignoble beginning... Such irony was not lost to him even as he lay there with three other 'dead 'standing around him in debate with heated hisses and exaggerated whispers. _Ohh Groot, help me! You furtrakin' twig..._ He recognized the thought as unfair but didn't really care that it was, if it only would have summoned his friend to the scene since these three so called friends were doing seemingly nothing, allowing him to bleed out in the gutter through just about every natural and then some orifice in his body.

" Something's gone wrong, I'm sure of it! I'm telling you, this wasn't supposed to happen yet! Not for another five days!" Gamora spat in worry, darting her gaze along the dim & grimy alley way but there was no sign of the shooters besides the one Rocket had taken out.

"You think they... know?"

" I agree with her Vance, things are not proceeding as they were predicted by the Oracle." Drax comments in his familiar laconic way while examining the attackers body for any identification. "Nothing." he declares after a fashion which was a confirmation of sorts as well.

"What about him? There isn't much of a window left with Rocket before this all changes again."Astrovik notes looking at Rocket with a touch of regret in his voice.

"We'll take him and that body with us, you dummy." Gamora replied sharply.

"But that's against the agreement... leave the dead for they are already dead and all that." he protests as if out of habit and not real malice.

"Well it's one part irrelevant now but proves our suspicion right." Drax shrugs pointing at the fact that the dead man's body and possessions had already vanished. His comrades give their silent acknowledge to his statement.

"But Rocket isn't dead yet, or are you?" Gamora asked unnecessarily harsh, shaking Rocket roughly to wake him from his pre-mortem stupor.

"Soon I'll be." He sighed coughing weakly, some bloody bubbles seeping down from between his lips with each ragged cough. He really wanted to give his most snarky response but had barely enough cohesiveness left for just those three words. She glared at him like it was his fault that some _flarknards_ had wanted him dead and succeeded splendidly.

_I'm so sorry Groot, hope you like your share in my last will...I really wasn't going to sell my life short like this and Nidnene's going to be so pissed when she hears about this, that girls got some temper. Good thing Pete's great at dodging dinner plates... But you'll do fine my boys, you always do, have no fear._ Rocket thought with some longing. His consciousness finally slipped away as his body went limp and eyes rolled up in his head.

High above, the amber moon shines brightly on.

**_-Flicker-_ **

 

 

> *Koogah is a popular, blue skinned, featherless, chickenesque livestock with three eyes that tastes vaguely of chicken.


	15. The glass bead game

## The glass bead game

## Ch 14

White. It is all white. I hate white. Why is it always fracking white in these places? White windowless room, white sheets, white gown on me, at least the lights have been dimmed. I should be terrified but for some reason I'm not, it must be the drugs they pump into you at places like this. I sigh and slowly crack my eyes fully open to observe the space I'm in with a bit more care. Something's sticking at my left elbow pit. it's an intravenous cannula inserted to administer fluids and probably drugs directly into my circulation. I raise the arm turning to examine it and watch as the large cannula automatically retracts out and seals the not so tiny puncture it had made into my left arm cephalic vein. Good, I hate needles almost as much as I hate having an iron lung tube tucked into my throat. I push the cover away from my chest a little and spread my right arm to touch the faintly shimmering curtain surrounding the bed I'm lying at. The field gives no resistance at all under my fingertips as I pass them through. A bio-contamination field then... And I'm not restrained, one thing at a time. need to figure out where the frakk am I, 'cause this ain't no hospital despite all this white frakk, I'm almost sure. My murky thoughts and fidgeting are both arrested by a chirpy feminine voice coming from seemingly nowhere. The voice is not really female any more than it's a male but my mind connects it with caring feminism and I have a strange feel that the voice is smirking amused at this even though it doesn't have a face for me to verify.

"Hello, Mister Rocket it's good to know you're fully awake. Do not worry for the containment field, it's only there to provide oxygen rich environment and keeping harmful bacteria away while you recover. I can remove it if it's bothering you, it's no longer really necessary now that your lungs have almost fully recovered."

I frown at the voice, My lungs, what else got busted in me? Questions are burning at my lips as I fell to a sudden flashback to the events before I lost my consciousness at the alley but I keep quiet and try to think. Ignoring the presence of the voice I slowly raise up the hem of my gown to look at my chest where new fur is already fluffing up in places where the jarring holes from plasma rays should have been and run my sensitive fingers through them. Unblemished... completely unblemished skin, I can't feel even the oldest surgical scars. The voice replies to my confused frown.

"You were catastrophically injured Mister Rocket and we nearly lost you but I assure you that I've put everything in their right place and your fur will have grown back fully within a few days. Would you like to see the full medical report now?" It -she asks even before I have voiced the question in my mind. Sure let's call IT as SHE 'cause that's what my mind keeps telling me to use though I'm now fairly certain that the voice belongs to machine and -DUH, machines are genderless, right?

"No, I- I'm fine. -Uhh, thanks." I stammer, still a bit confused and disoriented as I watch the color scheme of the room slowly shift into more earthen colors.

"You dislike stark white, do you not? Brown, yellow, green and blue are your more favored prime colors, are they not?" She asks helpfully.

Now, just how the Frakk could it know that? I wonder.

"Ahh-, Brown's 'n blue's fine I guess." I can't think of anything else to say and lean back against the uncannily comfortable mattress as the room's general theme darkens from pure white into sandy brown while my sheets and covers take slightly bluish hue. I wonder if you can actually hear formless voice nodding with a smile or if it's all just inside my head? I drift back to sleep while imagining of beaches & Beaches thinking how Bette Midler was such a great actress...

I'm not sure how long have I slept when I wake up again but the room would now be almost completely dark except for my natural night vision, so this place does have a day/night cycle at least which probably means that I'm not the only living thing in here; well half-living considering how much metal and silicon has been stuffed into my body over the years. The shimmering 'curtain' is still surrounding the bed and the cannula has returned to my arm. I shudder at seeing it but this time it doesn't retreat under my gaze. I gingerly Reach out my hand to take hold of the fat needle like device and the tubes attached to it, resisting the urge to rip it out as I mull the meaning of this in my mind, before releasing my grip and deciding it better to find out why it is there first before I try ripping it off.

Checking my bionic internal clock reveals me that I've slept for at least twelve hours the last time I was awake. Further study reveals frightfully telling 'gaps' in my clock's log; I have died at least thrice and been partially awake a few times before I woke up fully those some twelve hours ago. No wonder I've felt so weak and tired; because I should be dead like a Dodo as the Terran saying goes. Since I'm already at it I decide going through my other system logs as well which show the same thing; someone's gone through my whole system and by all appearances a full system check and repair has been conducted but nothing's changed it seems, just repaired. Maintaining my cybernetic systems has become so much easier and precise after the docs installed proper modern system monitors and bio-feedback regulators on my hardware back at Xarth some six years ago, replacing that near worthless pseudo-sensory nerve alert crap I originally had, whose only basic function was to uselessly alert if cybernetics of my arm are fully functional or not for example; like I couldn't tell just from pained jolts or by not being able to properly move the fucking thing already.

Time to get some answers from my 'lovely' hostess.

"Hey yo! Umm Miss- ? you in there, here or whatever?" I yelp hoping to catch the A.I's attention.

"Yes, Mister Rocket. How may I assist?" It replies almost immediately and the room's lights slowly start to build intensity in a pattern resembling dawn.

"First of; just where the frakk am I and when can I leave this frickin' chokey already?" I sass at the voice feeling a bit of boredom from being bedridden already setting into me.

"Currently you are residing at the guest wing of the temporal resistance movement facility Nr. 9 and you are free to roam the facility at any time you feel able to. "

"okay then, If I'm so free to roam... Then what the frakk is this for and where's the flarking door in the first place?" I ask raising my arm where the IV is hooked on to and wave it in a circle that encompasses my field of vision for emphasis.

"The medical solution used for the fluid infusion contains nutrients, steroids and mild analgesic. Your esophagus, major organs and bowels were severely damaged and punctured and you're currently incapable of ingesting or digesting solid food. This facility operates with quantum technology completely eschewing the need for traditional doorways. Would you like me to now recite the medical operations done to you after arriving here Mister Rocket?" The voice asks almost annoyingly nice.

"No." I reply shuddering at the thought. "Why do you insist in showing me those anyway. You must already know how much I hate even the thought of going under the knife?" I ask with a tint of suspicion.

"It was deemed that full openness would be most beneficial to your mental state and adjustment to your current state."

"Fratackin'mental states my gloonards. Whatc'ha think I look like. Some krutacking daisy in a vase. huh.??" I huff in clear annoyance.

"You are an unknown subspecies of the parent species Procyon Lotor, borne of the population produced by an unknown bio-sculptor at the planet Procyon-6- at keystone quadrant. Raised in Halfworld-" the voice affirms before I cut in. "Thanks' Captain Obvious, now tell me something I don't know and tell me who's in charge here and Just who the frack told you all this crap about me? That shit ain't in any of my personal files I'm sure of it and just who the flark gave you the rights to dig through my systems."

"Gamora Zen-Whoberi Ben Thanos, Drax the Destroyer and Vance Astrovik were authorized to provide the personal information and consent for operations based on their long association with you Mister Rocket. I am designated as E.V.A. The Leader has now been notified of your wish to meet him, would you like to have the implantation needed for the quantum interleafing and meet him now or prefer to have a bracelet with equal properties to be made instead?"

For a moment I'm at a loss for words. "I- look, Tell him to meet me here later, okay. I need to rest." I finally manage to say. So this is why Gamora and the others had just gone *poof* Why couldn't those three jokers just send a frickin' postcard or something instead of leaving us to stew?

"As you wish. You should rest, heavy exertion is not advised at your current stage of recuperation." E.V.A informs before going fully quiet again and seems to retreat from my presence. I'm not fooled though and am pretty sure I'm under constant monitoring. E.V.A likely went quiet mostly to give me a modicum of privacy which is kind of thoughtful in a way. That A.I is right though, I shouldn't exert myself yet. It's a measure of my fatigue that even these short spells spent awake fatigue me to a point where I don't even feel the need to set my internal clock to forced rest mode to get some more sleep. I usually feel a need to do it when I'm cooped up like this but not this time. I'll just think of why's later... Gonna close my eyes and rest a little now.

The first thing I notice before I've even opened my eyes again, is the sound of someone else in the room. I keep my eyes closed and listen. Nope it's not the heartbeat and rhythm of someone I know and I can smell him which indicates the force field curtain has been removed from around the bed. I open my eyes slowly and turn to gaze at the man standing next to my bed.

He was probably mid-aged and likely a Terran with light complexion and black hair and neat goateed lip beard but that wasn't the unusual thing; his clothes were. He was wearing and very old fashioned -even in Earth, navy blue suit and tie with white collared shirt-combination like the G-men seen in old Terran movies.

"Hello, I am the Leader. I was told that you wished to see me Mr Raccoon?" He asks sounding just a bit too smarmy to my tastes.

"You're the leader here?"

"Why yes, I am." The man notes a touch stiff.

"Could you lean a little bit closer... closer. " I whisper tiredly at the man who obediently bends a little closer and lower. As soon as his within reach I grab him by pulling from that ridiculous necktie lowering his face to an inch from my muzzle flashing my pearly white canines and black claws threateningly in front of his face.

"Now you little frakk... You're gonna spill the flarking beans on me or I'll spill your guts on the flarking floor right the flarking now!" I snarl with all the virulence and threat my tired and injured body can muster.

"Please Mister Raccoon there's no need to be so *GASP* hostile!" The man grunts struggling to breath.

"I'll show you hostile... Who are you people really and why the flark did you assholes pull me and my friends from our time stream? Time manipulation was decreed banned and prohibited within all civilized planets by the pain of penalty under death at the Disradi convention you asshole! Even the Rigellians abide by it and they frackin' pioneered the science." I growl again and pinch his cheek pulling it painfully.

"Please! You're our guest here...and because we NEED you... The resistance needs YOU. Disradi convention was -is twelve hundred years to your past from our current perspective. It's no longer binding. " He screeches in sudden pain.

I stare at him for a moment before slightly relenting my death grip on the Leader's tie allowing him to breath as his getting a bit ruddy on the face.

"Pull your shit together and get the flarkin' level with me as soon as I'm fit to walk... and I'll consider not to kill you all just on principle." I growl menacingly. Okay, maybe I'm not quite as consenting with my situation as it looks but right now I don't even frackin' care what it looks like and this guy is really pushing my buttons right now.

"Really, Mister Rocket?" E.V.A chides me though she sounds -amused, perhaps?

The Leader manages to glare at the general direction of the voice despite my ironclad grip of his face. He straightens up as soon as I release my grip. To my satisfaction I notice his slightly nervous gaze and several beads of sweat on his brow as he turns to look down at me, all collected and professional-like while adjusting his tie and jacket needlessly to fake at being in control of the situation.

"I-I'll talk with you later when you're feeling better Mister Raccoon." He announces coolly before disappearing in that now familiar **-flicker-** and I can't help but purr in slight satisfaction.

"E.V.A; make the damn curtain non-opaque and put the do-not-disturb sign on the door, will you?" I sigh before feeling like going back to sleep again.

I open my eyes and snarl in annoyance when I finally wakeup again. The containment field is non-opaque as I requested but there's someone else in the room with me, staying very quiet but my hearing is way too sharp to not pick the minute sounds one's body makes especially in an environment as quiet as this.

"E.V.A... What happened to do-not-disturb?" I grunt.

"Lady Gamora is very persuasive when she wishes to be."

"I see. Ohh fine, drop the curtain and I'll hear what she wants." I sigh though I feel nothing of the kind right now. E.V.A complies, the field vanishes and the room lights up slowly again revealing Gamora sitting at a chair next to my bed still wearing that strange green cloak she acquired from the Black Vortex.

"Hey Rock, E.V.A's taking good care of you?" She asks an easy smile at her lips.

"The room service sucks but otherwise she's okay for an A.I." I grunt feeling her smile catching on me.

"He is still incapable of ingesting solid food." E.V.A fills in helpfully.

"Figures, not that I had a dinner in mind when seeing you, anyway." She nods noticing the canula in my arm.

"Boss man sent you then?"

"Well, yes and no. I wanted to see you but E.V.A said you couldn't stay awake for long and spend most of your time sleeping... I also figured that you might accept my assertion of the situation better than his seeing how you roughed him up already."

"Oh you saw that?" I ask a little sheepish.

"No, but I know you and he confirmed as much." Gamora shrugs.

"Wanna play a game of beads Gamora? C'mon humor me. I'm bored. You can tell your take on things while we play." I nearly beg when she's about to decline. Off the Guardians only Vance, Groot and Mantis had shown any kind of true aptitude for the Rigellian Glass bead game aside from me.

"For this once Rocket. E.V.A please reform the game board and beads for us." Gamora agrees reluctantly.

The gaming board materializes between us after a few minutes of waiting. I suspect that E.V.A had to create the board on the fly.

Gamora places her first bead on the board.

"A war is raging far into the future Rocket... A war we cannot win nor lose and it's spilling to the past sending ripples, some intentional but mostly not... And I've lost the count on how many wars we've won or lost only to travel back to change things again and again and here's the rub; What we can change they can change too but as Rigellians would happily explain to you: certain things MUST NOT change and some simply cannot be changed in each time-line because it would erase both sides or destroy the time-line and we... We need you Rocket. You're the greatest military mind possibly ever born and... we're losing, losing badly.

I nod placing my first bead.

"Wouldn't that sort of screw the time-lines if I'd just jaunt into future-past and fix things for you? And you've been gone like six years from my perspective."

She rubs her chin a little before placing two beads more.

"Not if it's done right and Vance, I and Drax... I've been told that we were something called free nucleus. Meaning that we could be 'pulled' from the stream without destroying it but not returned as we please but you are a 'marker' as they call it. Too important to be lost and as such always able to return to the point where you left the stream."

"Okay so what's the range limit of this 'stream'?" I comment mildly intrigued and place my two beads.

"Forming of the Guardians right before the battle of Xandar. it's apparently the lynch pin in this reality, if its tampered with this reality's future will begin to unravel unpredictably." she says choosing to move her beads instead of adding more.

"Oh, well I guess it's nice to be important..." I humph placing a new bead.

"No, It's not that. An individual isn't as important as the event. Up until that point any one of us could have been replaced as long as the event happened roughly the way it did." She counters now bringing four new beads to the board.

"So... they...?" I mumble feeling almost afraid to even ask and place four beads more mirroring Gamora.

"Yes, any one of us could have been assassinated in the past but we're lucky because our own obscurity had shielded us so far... there's not enough Data to strike against us efficiently and all in our side have worked hard with the other 'travelers' to ensure it stays that way. As I noted the Battle of Xandar has been recognized as a sort of demarcation line that neither side will cross." She elaborates while now moving her beads in to zigzag pattern at the board

"Oh, thanks that's reassuring, I guess." I mumble knowing that I could cripple her game right there but that's no fun. So I ignore her mistake and move my beads in seemingly offensive way.

"I'm better at playing than you seem to think." she notes and changes her pattern by adding two more beads.

"Good, I enjoy challenges." I say smiling slyly before partially decimating her forms by removing two of her pearls and utterly crippling her ability to win.

"You're welcome." She says smiling but it sounds almost a lie as I hand her beads back to her.

"Another game Gamora?" I ask picking the beads into my palm.

"With you? Hah, go pester Maje... I'm not fool enough to think that I could ever beat you."

I chitter in amusement. Gamora could be such a sore loser.

We set the game aside on the night table next to my bed.

I lock my maroon eyes with Gamora's Green. "You are all fools Gamora. Fools to think there's anything to win here. it's an elaborate glass bead game. An unending Glass bead game."

Gamora frowns uncertainly.

"I'll show you, look." I sigh returning the board between us before setting the beads on the board in nested circles, each circle precisely one bead smaller than the former ring until there was only one bead to be placed at the centre of the board.

"Pick one, anyone except the one at the middle, it's the nexus." I bid her and Gamora does as requested by removing one of the beads from the rings.

"Now what?" She asks holding the bead between her fingers.

"This happens..." I note moving the beads from outer rings to close the gap she had made.

"...Each time we remove one of these beads, which represent events, we leave a 'hole' which is detectable by the temporal chronograph and each time either us or they will attempt to push that bead back in by creating another new event as a counter." I then snatch the bead from Gamora and place it on the board seemingly random, bulging out the ring it was placed in.

"And now we have a temporal anomaly as the Rigellians call them, which has to be fixed before it breaks the sequence."

"You mean..." she says lowly realizing what I had seen almost from the start.

"Yes, the future may not be set but you can't take from the stream without giving back something of equal. The trick is therefore..." I explain further by moving the beads inside their circle instead of taking them out. "See, the only way the time stream keeps stable is to move events but then you cannot win because nothing really changes. Unless, unless we remove the nexus bead."

"But that's-!" Gamora blurts slightly shocked.

"The end or the beginning of all depending on the direction you're looking at but once it's out-." I demonstrate my meaning by moving one bead to replace the one at the center from the next ring, one ring at a time and then taking out the one bead at the centre again continuing the process of slowly decreasing the rings by closing the gap with a bead at the inner ring from an outer one until I've gathered all but one bead from the board.

"This is what I think should happen when the nexus event is removed. All should ravel and collapse to singularity of time streams. One future should remain and this is what I believe they're are trying to achieve as well. Doesn't necessarily bode too well for us poor sucka's in the past now does it? But what the frack should they care we're all history to them anyway." I conclude seriously.

"So you're saying we've been duped?" she asks incredulously.

"Of course not, you three wouldn't be here if you didn't buy in to their cause and believe it to be true but you need me in order to win. The Leader has already confirmed as much."

"Well, are we going to win? What's the odds in your opinion." She finally asks.

"Don't know yet. There's too many variables to form an accurate assessment yet." I admit truthfully.

"Get some rest Rocket. One of the good things about this place is that we've all the time we need." she says noticing my tired yawn.

"Tell Leader, I'm in Gamora." I yell just before she **'flicker's** out' and turns to look at me with a slightly surprised look on her face.


	16. The right paw path

## The right paw path  
Ch 15

### -Somewhere in time.-

I had never realized how wonderful simple and everyday cereal gruel, fruits and vegetables could taste until E.V.A finally deemed that I was fit to start consuming solid food again. Carefully of course, my stomach was still not fully recovered and gluttony after a long fasting might have ruptured it... And I would have happily eaten three plates worth of anything that was offered. The frackin' tease of an A.I only allowed tiny cup of food at a time though which had pissed me off to no end for the first couple of times it had been offered.

The promised bracelet was an interesting piece, not because of the design really; which was about as plain as it gets, but for the technology behind it. Fact is that I couldn't find any kind of circuitry or mechanisms within, no matter how carefully I examined the two inch wide silvery grey thingamajig. It was for all intents and purposes just a hunk of solid -well; material, since it felt or smelled like no other metal or polymer composite I've ever had the chance to work with, while it seemed about as hard as glass it was also weirdly stretchy, widening just enough to allow my palm through before shrinking to fit snugly around my right wrist when I experimentally put my hand through that obviously too small circle, expecting the need to ask for a larger version.

There was no real sensation or feeling to speak of either when the bracelet activated on its own. I just KNEW it was working and how to use it as intended was easy for someone like me who knew the basics of quantum dimension theory behind the bracelet. Universal basics don't change even in a few millennia. My hours worth of efforts were repaid when I started to notice faint ghostly shapes just at corner of my vision. Focusing all my attention to one of those shapes now made it tangible or intangible which ever I preferred -in this case; a dresser which I used to clean myself a little as my fur looked like a hayloft after such a long time spent at bed rest. The next thing I 'conjured' , dismissing the dresser, was the wardrobe and I started to rummage through the contents inside. Though it seemed empty initially I quickly deducted that it worked on a sort of create-on-demand basis and could probably create pretty much any kind of clothing I'd prefer. I wasn't feeling all that experimental however and chose something that felt familiar and comfortable, simple solid black slacks, shirt and a light orange hoodie. I conjured up a mirror to view myself before dismissing all furniture, including the bed I had spent so many days in, once I was satisfied with what I was seeing at the mirror and closed my eyes to focus shortly.

**-Flicker-**

Rocket opened his eyes squinting a little as his eyes adjusted at the harsh light. The ambient lit meeting room he'd landed on seemed fairly large though he suspected that it was fairly deceiving in dimensions like pretty much everything else in this place. Not much furniture was visible which also meant little since anyone in the room could conjure and dismiss them as they pleased. Seeing no one else around, Rocket created himself a couch to lounge in while waiting for the others to show up.

**-Flicker-**

"I remember that couch." Drax notes though it was hard to say from the rock faced man if it was meant as nostalgic fondness or a simple statement of fact.

"Got a lot good memories from it though you've got to admit that it looks different without the beer stains." Rocket grins back from the green replica of Milano's sofa. The big man nods "It is good to see you in good health furry one."

"Or without the animal hair, the claw marks and the bullet casings and bread crumbs between the cushions..." Gamora adds sitting opposite Rocket while Drax forms himself a simple chair.

**-Flicker-**

"You had a couch like that in your ship?" Vance asks in amusement.

"Well, sure. Wasn't my idea to haul one over but it was kinda nice thing to slouch at in-between missions, you know." Rocket huffs defiantly.

"You must know how attached Star-lord is to his trinkets & junk from Terra... Hard to believe it but that couch was probably among the least outdated things he used to hoard at the Milano" Gamora shrugs seeming rather fond on the memory.

"Really? I know he had that Earth-thing going on but-" Vance asks eyebrows climbing a little surprise.

"Yes he did."

"Really it is so."

"True fixation."

Rocket, Gamora and Drax sigh in-unison.

**-Flicker-**

The leader appears, looks around with a wry smile and adjusts his 'stupid' tie rather self-consciously when he notices Rocket eyeing it.

"Nice to see you're up and about too Rocket."

"That's Mister Rocket to you fancy pants. We ain't buddies yet" Rocket comments tersely.

"Be nice Rocky, his your host after all." Gamora reminds sounding almost fond.

"Technically, his also your boss since you already agreed to join us Rocket." Drax reminds him who scowls lightly at the Tattooed muscle mountain.

The leader pinches his lips at the exchange refraining from commenting and conjures up a view screen.

"If I could have all your attention, my lady, gentlemen. Per Mr. Rocket's explicit request I'm providing him with a briefing on our current situation as it stands..." Leader announces and begins his short lecture once he has their attention.

* * *

"That bad, huh? And you expect me to fix this flark-on-a-stick all by myself? The next great Badoon invasion and their Zom-troops, the S.T.A.R.K's and flarking Kang the Conqueror on top of it -Again, I might add?" Rocket huffs eyebrows climbing a bit when the leader finishes his presentation. His friends reactions are more stoic having already seen the show before.

"No, not all by yourself but your almost perfect intuitive grasp in plotting the best possible outcome at even the most dire situations will be invaluable to us." The leader elaborates.

"Just an academic question, _boss..._ You've got all these super smart super computers and all that frakk laying around here. So Why don't cha just put one of those for the task. I'm pretty sure they could perform just as well as me, I'll even help you make one if need be." Rocket offers in return.

"Tempting offer but the problem with even the most sophisticated A.I's is that they're always A.I's at the end and it's a fundamental part of them to remain without imagination and unhindered creativity and as such they can't really create anything _new_ thus allowing otherA.I's to deduct and counter their plans _,_ besides we've already tried that approach a few times and failed, hence your involvement with us."

"Good points... I remember the Ultron, Phalanx and S.T.A.R.K's... Tends to be a bad idea to give them those. Buggers get resentful way too easy." Rocket reminisces stroking his chin in thought . "All right. I'll become your head strategist IF you let me sort out my future-past first."

The leader considers this for a short moment. "It's a deal." he agrees offering his palm for Rocket to shake and seal the deal who grabs it after a moment of hesitation.

"Deal? It's a steal is what I say." Major Victory comments cheerily.

"Well, he is a Raccoonoid." Gamora chides Rocket in playful manner.

"Steal...? Raccoons like thieving, it is a fact not something merry- Ooh! I got it, that was a funny one." Drax adds suddenly figuring out the pun.

"Hah ha, guys. Very funny." Rocket mutters faking annoyed at being the butt of the joke.

"Now that we're in agreement Mr. Rocket. We should discuss about few details pertaining your tenure and stay here. If you'd be so kind as to follow into my office." The Leader announces before leaving their company. Rocket just shrugs in agreement before following suit.

**-Flicker-**

The Leader's stark and modern office was a slight surprise to Rocket; who had expected something more conservative from a man wearing suit & tie at the thirty-first-century. There were barely any furniture visible as was usual for the place they were in, just the office table of black glass-like substance with the accompanying display screen on top of it, Leader's chair in which he was sitting on and a file cabinet. None of this meant much since Rocket could sense through his bracelet that the room was in fact filled to the brim with all kinds of quantum leafed furniture including the office chair he conjured up to sit on in front of Leader's desk. He casually adjusted his chair higher until he was facing the man's eyes at equal height.

"Well, you've certainly learned things fast Mr. Rocket, it took considerably longer from your friends to control their leafing enough to change the state of their surroundings." The leader comments in wry smile.

"It's easier when you understand the actual scientific principles behind it." Rocket shrugs nonchalantly.

"Speaking of principles... There's a few things I have to insist on. I can't allow you to take any tech seen here with you when you return except that bracelet, its needed for your safe return here and is impossible to duplicate -yes I know you'll try it anyway and fail, by the way. Besides as you've probably already guessed the bracelet alone does nothing, it takes two to tango and also to quantum leaf, apparently. The leafing technology is practically worthless without the infrastructure to support it." Leader notes sternly with another wry smile on his face.

"Oh, I wasn't planning to..." Rocket fakes having had the thoughts of doing exactly that.

"The other thing is knowledge of future events; our files naturally can't cover everything but there's still fairly good chance that any information you gain here has the potential to change the timelines and we just can't afford that without careful revaluation." Leader's expression turns to frown as he starts to read the display screen in front of him. "Though it seems that things are in flux again, possibly the ripple effects of bringing you here... I suppose some of it is unavoidable."

"Well I was kind of hedging on a bit of help in finding out the guy behind my assassination and it's not my style to blap my secrets to just anyone." Rocket admits pensively.

"We already considered if we should do that and came to a decision that letting you just know instead of resolving the matter yourself would change things too much down the line and possibly not for the positive for _us_ even if the short term results would work in your favor."

"Sequence of events needs to be preserved..." Rocket nods in understanding.

"Something like that, yes. Now you mentioned earlier that that you'd build us an A.I if we wouldn't have good one enough. Well, we do have some 'good' A.I's working here. You've already met E.V.A -our medical & hospice A.I, the other one is the Oracle whose job is to monitor the time stream and to report predictions about the coming changes in the timelines based on our actions.

"So, to sum it all up; you already know how things are going to play out for me when I get back but like to be gronads about it?" Rocket grumbles pensively.

"Pretty much, yes." The Leader affirms nonchalantly.

"What if I'm able to do something about the Badoon and all that before they even happen? I'm _still_ the Grand Admiral of Xarth in my timeline." Rocket proposes after a moment of mutual silence.

"It would certainly change a lot of things... And before you even ask why we haven't done something like this before; let me tell you that you'd be surprised how hard it has been to get someone with actual political influence to work for us. I need to take this to Oracle first."

"No rush boss, time is the one thing I have a plenty while staying here". Rocket says rather incurious.

* * *

Groot had been edgy the whole evening, disliking the fact that Peter had told him to stay put and allowed his best friend and only interpreter to walk at the city alone and without escort. Great maker knows what could happen and Groot had been annoyingly vocal all evening (to everyone else)about this little fact.

"Okay, it's past midnight and he still isn't back... Fine let's go find him and haul his drunken ass back home." Grumpy and tired Peter finally amends when the clock hits midnight. Groot didn't need to be told twice, already barreling out of the ship to find his friend.

"Don't take this the wrong way, sir but sometimes your decisions are really stupid." Jcaan grumbles following Peter out on the city with some of his men to find his missing V.I.P.

"Story of my life, Jcaan, story of my life." Peter grunts agreeing that it may not have been his brightest idea to allow Rocket to go alone even when it had been his friend's explicit wish.

"Hey Groot! Wait up!" Peter yells after him, making the wood-god slow his pace enough for them to catch up before picking up his pace again and forcing his companions into brisk jog to keep up with his long strides.

"I left him near the _Boot of Exitar,_ let's start from there." Peter proposes when they reach the long street housing most of the bars in Xandar's spaceport district or as the locals called it -the _wharf strip_.

**-Flicker-**

The cool early night air at that same narrow back alley barely big enough for a garbage vehicle to maneuver in still smelt like shit when Rocket landed back on the alley's pavement with a loud thud. Unlike in the movies or cheap sci-fi novels, it's not really a smooth ride or flashing lightning and annihilating spheres. It actually hurts, frackin' hurts A LOT and makes you want to puke your guts out after... He'd been warned that the first few times could be rough but man, nobody had prepared him for the fact that it would feel like somebody kicking you on the balls and hitting the back of your head with a shovel while having sand thrown on your face. He took a few groggy steps to lean against the wall for support, rested his throbbing head against the cool stones and puked his guts out facing the wall. Rocket shook his head in momentary confusion trying to regain his bearings. If the partially coagulated roughly raccoon shaped blood smears were an indication he had been returned to a point in time at some hours after he'd been shot at. Come morning, the slowly building rain would have washed even the traces away.

Rocket didn't know how long he'd been leaning and retching there when he heard a familiar voice yelling at him. Peter and his guard captain and Groot, _-oh, Groot if you'd only knew_.

"There he is! I knew it, -eWW is that vomit. Oh frakk, what did I just step on?" Peter mutters under his breath taking a step closer but his quickly outpaced by Groot who grabs the furry biped by the shoulders, turning him around to face him.

"I am Groot! I am Groot?" _Rocket we've been looking all over for you! Oh my gods where have you been. Peter wasn't sure, your men didn't know and the bartender couldn't understand me and-?_

"I am Groot ?" _You've been drinking again haven't you?_ Groot sighs disappointedly, noticing Rocket's vomit on the pavement and his uniform.

"No it wasn't like... That." Rocket starts, realizing in mid-sentence that he couldn't tell Groot what really had happened and stares at his friend for a moment before casting his eyes down. "I- I- I'm sorry Groot, I didn't mean to get drinking and make you all worked up and worried."

"I'm sorry old friend, so very, very sorry about everything". He practically bawled in big wet tears hugging at Groots ankle for support but not for the reasons Groot thought. In a split second he'd done one of the hardest and most painful things he'd ever done, he'd straight out lied to Groot and would keep lying to preserve what was now his biggest secret. The blinding headache only made the act seem all the more real.

"I am Groo-ot." _Come on, don't cry Rocket. I'll forgive you. Let's just go home_. The wood-god sighs gathering the sobbing and quivering Raccoonoid gently on to his lap before starting to walk back to the Milano.

* * *

 

Rocket woke up Later that night after Groot had carried him back to Milano, helped him undress his puke soiled dress uniform and tucked him in for bed before leaving him alone. He realized he had been woken up by the sounds of chatter wafting up through the vents from the Milano's common room.

"...and of course he was going to get wasted despite what was promised -figures. It always happens with recovering alcoholics." Star-lord muttered tiredly.

"I am Groot" _He seemed more sick than drunk to me._ Groot clarified but lucky for Rocket it seemed that the others didn't catch the actual meaning when Jcaan replied "It's unfortunately common for us who've served long at the military to grab the pills or the bottle to ease our worries and the maker knows he has loads."

"Hey, I've served even longer than he has in various armies and fronts and I've never been drunk like a skunk the way he is now." Peter remarks.

"I am Groot!" _Yeah, you just hit on every female you come across to cope with your own demons!_ Groot grumbles in defense of his friend.

"Hey, no need to take that tone with me Groot. All I'm saying is that we'll just have to find a way to keep him of the sauce for good."

"--Groot..." _better than putting him on to another rehab_...

"Let's bring this up with Rocket in the morning... Sober past costs a mint and if I'm forced to stockpile it in-case of Rocket binging like crazy again..." Peter grunts sounding awfully tired.

After that the conversation turned to other things making Rocket lose his interest and he stopped listening well before falling to actual sleep. One thing was sure though, that small lie was going to cost him a lot down the line.


	17. A sober reminder

## A sober reminder

## Ch 16

When Rocket woke up in the morning he realized something new, something to which he'd become so accustomed that only its absence made him aware of it. He no longer... hurt. When you're in chronic pain it inevitably becomes a part of you like an old friend who never leaves your side or lets you down. And now it was gone. It felt liberating almost exuberant but also just plain weird. He eventually tucked it into that corner closet at the back of his mind where he'd already promptly stashed the notion of his hands no longer shaking in the morning the way they used to, throwing away the figurative key.

_E.V.A did say how she'd put everything in their right place. Strange how I hadn't put even the slightest thought on it while recuperating at the temporal resistance's base._ Rocket minced on that for a moment more sitting at edge of his bunk opening and closing his fists in thought. In the end it mattered little seeing how he was still alive. A Free gift was a free gift, it didn't matter who gave it... A furry cyborg with almost as much metal and silicon as flesh in that tiny 3' body of his but now with 100% less scar tissue. What really mattered was here and now; Rocket decides with a sigh. He waddled up to the wardrobe to put on something which didn't smell as much of regret and wasted years as his puke soiled uniform.

He finally settles for the Black & green hoodie and trousers which he had almost never used, it also meant that right now they probably were his cleanest outfit as well. Rocket leaves his quarters feelings in good spirit until he reaches the common area and the small mess galley in his search for coffee. Peter, Groot and even his guard captain were already sitting by the table and apparently waiting for him. Just the glum looks on their faces alone made his ears flatten and mood darken. Rocket eyes his comrades warily, saying nothing as he climbs on the metal countertop to reach for a clay mug from the wall cupboard to get some coffee from the machine placed next to the counter he was standing on.

"Rocket... we should discus. Discus about YOU." Peter begins testily when Rocket sits on the table at his usual place with a mug of steaming coffee in front of him.

"Okay, sure..." Rocket agrees carefully and though he had already figured the subject his compatriots were perusing; it didn't make it any more pleasant for him to hear it.

"We- We really need to talk about your drinking and substance abuse problems Rocket." Peter addresses, his voice slowly gaining more confidence when it seems that Rocket isn't about to bolt or rage at him for bringing it up.

"I don't have a- what you called it? Substance problem." Rocket snorts indignantly. Well sure, he had used alcohol and heavy painkillers a bit too much at times but barely at all for a while now except that his friends couldn't know -wouldn't know that. To them he'd probably been gone no more than hours, to him it had been weeks.

"I see. We'll tell you how it looks to us and you're free to explain how you _don't_ have a problem..." Peter remarks sharply releasing the proverbial speaking podium to Jcaan and Groot.

Jcaan finally spills his guts after a good moment of thinking whether to say it or not despite the agreement made between him and Rocket's friends. "I don't like to slander my superiors even when it might be called for, sir. BUT for someone whose supposedly gone through rehab and alcohol detox... You still drink a lot, not a day goes by when you're not grabbing the neck of one liquor brand or another and when you're not having a drink you keep craving for stronger or something -anything to get buzzed and don't say you haven't, I've seen you sampling even the ship coolant fluids when we were at places where intoxicating substances were near impossible to gain. It's not only undignified and unprofessional it's downright degrading." 

"I am Groot." _I know you keep drinking when I'm not looking and you think that I don't know. I've done my best to remove temptations from you, so far the only success I've had was getting rid of that disgusting 'Timothy' you'd otherwise keep chugging like no tomorrow. I don't know which I find more offending to me the fact that you keep on killing yourself with those vile brews taken with mouthfuls of pills despite constant promises of the opposite or the fact that you honestly thought that I wouldn't know or find out despite your attempts in hiding it."_ Groot rumbles while using a datapad to transcribe what his saying to others around the table. Rocket feels like he should be shrinking under his gaze.

"Okay, my turn." Peter announces drawing a deep breath once Groot is finished with delivering his piece of mind. "I KNOW you have a real problem Rocket, because the damn medical cabinet keeps losing stuff... You know, I never really took notice back when we were an active team because we all were something of a 'heavy users' when it came to painkillers & bandages back in those days because of our line of work, but this shit's got to stop. You've already used like weeks worth in just three days. I mean what the fuck do you do with the junk, really? Half of it don't even work on you, so don't give me any bullshit about your pained implants."

Rocket blinks at that. He was pretty sure he'd kept refilling the stock at every stop they had made just as he had done years ago. Guess he had slipped at some point since Peter had found out. Only question was... how long and when had the man known and not just suspected?

"Oh no, they do work Pete... just not at the safe levels advertised in the labels... Alcohol strengthens their effect. So I'd imagine it was an easy slope to slide especially when they also make you _numb_ to some _other things_." Rocket admits slowly, playing along since he couldn't just tell them that he'd gotten of the junk for good thanks to certain futuristic medical A.I. Besides they probably wouldn't believe him anyway, not without the proof he was unwilling to provide and had promised not to reveal. He hoped his friends took his compliance as a sign of guilt and not as something he was using to hide behind.

Peter draws a deep breath massaging his eyelids and face.

"We'll make a deal with you. -You give your word to stay out of drugs and alcohol except the ones prescribed to you and agree to give a blood test daily for the next two weeks and we won't return you to rehab once we get back to Xarth-3. Agreed?"

"You what? Are you frickin' insane! -Daily blood tests! You can't frakkin' force a cold turkey on me like it's no big deal! That could kill me you d'ast idiots!" Rocket splutters now rightfully indignant.

"Told you he wouldn't go for it." Peter notes unfazed, having clearly expected the reaction.

"I am Groot" _I don't particularly like those other options either._

"What options?" Rocket demands to hear but Groot refuses to elaborate making Rocket glare balefully at him.

"Well you got a better way?" Peter finally asks attempting to break the glacier that had formed between them and Rocket.

"Yeah, stay of my back, it's none of your god damn business!" Rocket practically screeches before storming off tail erect and guard hairs fluffed up.

"So now what?" Jcaan asks once he thinks Rocket has gone far enough to be out of earshot.

"I'll lock my booze and all the medical supplies to my quarters. it's the one place Rocket doesn't dare to snoop at..." Peter says.

"I am Groot" _I'll go stay with Rocket, you've upset him pretty badly Pete, besides he doesn't drink nearly as much when I'm near._ Groot announces writing it down on his datapad before leaving Star-lord  & Captain Jcaan.

"You planned for this didn't you Mr. Quill?" Jcaan finally comments.

"Well part of it... 12% at least but We'll see if it scared him enough to try staying clean at least a few days." Peter nods leaning his chair back against the wall, taking a sip of coffee from his mug with one arm while the other arm is laid behind his neck and thumps his boot heels on the table for good measure.

* * *

"The frakk you want now. Can't a guy even clean his clothes in peace anymore?" Rocket acerbically retorts to Groot when the latter finds his friend stuffing his soiled uniform and other dirty clothing in to the laundry machine.

"I am Gr-root." _I'm sorry, I know we were pretty blunt, even crass with it, but it's only because we are worried about you. Especially after finding you in such a state at some dingy alley that looked like a butcher's shop's backyard._ Groot says passing the washing agent from the top shelf down to Rocket.

"Yeah, yeah, I get that, now stop hovering over me. I ain't going to keel over from intoxication anytime soon and I sure as heck ain't snorting this powder to get a fix even though it's white, fluffy and burns in my nostrils." Rocket grumbles handing the agent back for Groot to place it back on the shelf.

"I am Groot." _I just don't want you to hold a grudge about this._

"We'll see. Right now I've got more important things to worry like how to keep my flarkin' job and a bunch of assassins off my back." Rocket sighs kicking the old machine just for the hell of it on his way out.

* * *

**Kree empire territories, Pama system- planet Hala, Beta-7 quadrant** **-** **Kree-lar** **central bureau of information**

**Next day**

"Remind me again why we're doing this shit Rocket. Are you absolutely sure it's worth the risk of getting us both joining my old man at the Kyln?"

"Yes, I do. All because of some krutacking bureaucrat with a stick up in his sakonnet had decided to display his power and denied us the access we need; knowing that we don't have three weeks to wait for the appeals to go through... Now shut up and let me concentrate. This is tricky enough as it is without you blathering nonsense on my earpiece and if they suspect not to mention actually see even one frackin' hair of us, all hell's going to break loose and I'm not talking figuratively here." Rocket grumbles while straddling from a harness just above the roof surface. He shuts off the comm with that last remark and returns back to his work at the rooftop terrace of the central bureau of information. He needed to hook his personal terminal into building info & security grid in order to monitor the guard movements and to shut down some of the alarm systems and if the complex hacks he had prepared just for the occasion were detected -Rocket wasn't sure they would get away despite Star-lord hanging above him in a cloaked surface cruiser ready to whisk them away at the first sign of trouble.

"Done! Drop the rest of my gear down and back off. I'll let you know when to pick me up." Rocket announces sighing in relief when the console announces success by quietly beeping twice. He then drops down the remaining three feet by releasing his harness rope.

"Just don't get caught, man. I ain't gonna help busting you out of Kyln this time." Star-lord says delivering Rocket's gear down with a soft thud before flying off to someplace safe to wait. Rocket wasn't sure where nor did he care as long as Peter would be far enough to offer a credible alibi if things went sour. Not that it had ever really mattered with the Accusers who had the tendency of jailing you first and then finding the evidence anyway if they so much as suspected it possible to accuse you of something.

Rocket made sure he had all the gear he needed in the backpack and pushed a few buttons in his console before unbuckling the harness and storing it away to start picking the lock. it took him near five minutes to pick it even without the A.I controlled alarm getting in the way. Damn Kree efficiency, even the service door locks were harder to crack than many of the safes he'd encountered and opened over the years.

Entering the building was the easiest part; to remain undetected was going to be a lot more hard and would have been impossible if he hadn't hacked the system and fooled the sentinel A.I. Rocket scanned the tower's schematics memorized in his mind while waiting in shadows for a pair of guards to move on with their rounds so he could sneak into the elevator shaft unseen. Most infiltrators would have gone for the digital vaults at the subbasement levels but he was more interested in what was stored at the middle levels of the building -the physical files archive.

Sneaking inside, he looked carefully at his every step to access the elevator shaft which was as easy as jamming a screwdriver between the door halves and heaving hard. Rocket squeezed in as soon as the door halves had an opening about as wide as his tail was long, clipping his climbing harness rope on a small hook just inside the door mechanisms framing. He slipped special goggles on before beginning his minor descent on the service ledge to avoid the laser grids specifically inserted to prevent the use of the shaft for this purpose. They were a fine deterrent except for one thing; though they did reach all the way through the shaft right below and above him at each floor they also ignored false flags from the elevator cars, which was fine for Rocket who simply waited for the guards to use the elevator and hitched a ride to the next floor. To get to the floor he wanted to go he just needed to attach his harness rope to the elevator car bottom when it came up to the floor, after that it was just waiting and a few presses on his pad. Sure, the guards were a bit confused for momentarily stopping at the wrong floor and would be on more alert for awhile but that was a risk he had been willing to take since elevators moving on their own accord was even more suspicious.

Rocket heaved a quiet sigh of relief and stood up at the service ledge as the elevator car rumbled down past him. He routed the hacked security camera feed to his pad to see what was beyond the doors before forcing them open. Re-routing the cameras was already a routine as he moved quietly through the hallways his sharp ears easily picking up the footsteps of the guards well before they came into view. So far so good.

He stopped before the almost comically common looking door considering what was stored behind it. It looked very plain and unassuming but he knew it was just the first of a set of three which each were at least three feet thick and made almost entirely of vibranium alloy. The vault access would also be tightly sealed and rigged with the finest security the Kree could deliver not to mention the systems designed to keep the physical documents in top shape*.

Good thing he wasn't going to break through the door. There were better ways for someone like him to get in such as the indispensable piping and cable rails located at the technical space between the inner roof and the floor of the upper building level. Of course it wasn't going to be _that easy,_ first he had to climb up along the wall to reach the space between, then he had to cut open one of the huge ventilation pipes that moved the gas around inside the vault all the while making sure there weren't any leaks since the systems monitoring the archive's condition were autonomous from the security A. I and would alert readily if the hermeticity of the vault was compromised. Rocket placed a full-face breathing mask on before rigging the wires of the nearby electric cables to juice up his tools used to open up the pipe. He then inflated a specially designed elongated pipe shaped seal with a hole in the middle on the pipe to keep the gas in and flowing once he had climbed inside the pipe in order to keep the vault A.I 'happy'.

Rocket knew there would be no guards, tripwires or any other security inside the vault itself because the vaults very 'air' was readily poisonous to all lifeforms. He had only about half an hour of air in his tanks** so there was little time for gawking. Rocket eyed the huge space and it's immensely tall never-meant-for-humanoid-beings-to-handle bookcases through the vent grill.

"There is a user terminal _outside_ the access hatch to the vault but that's out of my reach." Rocket mused until he suddenly spotted one of the file retriever robots idly floating not too far below the grill. "But if I hack one of those..." He decided almost cheerfully.

Opening the grill and leaping on the back of the automaton currently floating inert was no trick at all to someone like Rocket and in mere minutes he had both a ride to move around at the vault*** and a guide/helper to get what he needed.

* * *

Rocket lets out a sigh of relief only when his back at the roof to which he had landed earlier. He then walked up to the ledge and jumped down, landing right through the open top hatch of the cloaked surface cruiser.

"Did you get it?" Star-lord asked anxiously as soon as Rocket had seated himself next to him at the cockpit.

"Yeah, I got it. Now let's blow this joint." Rocket replied tensely as if expecting an alarm to go off at any moment.

"You bet! Buckle up Rocky!" Star-lord agrees as he pushes the throttle to the max and they shot off through the city between buildings.

* * *

"So, the Grand Admiral and his allies have the files now and there was no attempted intervention by the facility guards or other problems?" Revan the Accuser asks in his usual deadpan voice.

"None what so ever as per your request, my lord. We in-fact barely even realized anything was amiss until your message informed us to ignore any such things. As far as we can determine nothing has been stolen at all." The archive director admits. Revan however doesn't seem to really even notice the little man's presence as he keeps on with his monologue.

"I wonder why the Supreme intelligence would want this to happen? There's absolutely nothing worth the risk they took in those files that I can see, and yet they went through all this trouble to retrieve it instead of simply waiting a few days... Oh well, I could always charge them for breaking & entering... Should they ever return." He strokes his chin in though before almost spitting. "Bah, Xarth and their stupid paltry political games. I'm sure it has to do with that, it has to have."

* * *

 

> *These systems commonly include air moisture & heat control and Argon, nitrogen or other similarly inert gas to replace the oxygen inside the display cases and file cabinets to keep oxidization of the files at the minimum and to prevent any possible problems with insects and bacterial or fungal growth, also normally no one touched the archived items by hand using automated filing and retrieval robots instead to minimize outside contact and wear & tear.
> 
> **He would have brought more air if it had been possible to fit himself and his necessary tools inside the pipe with a larger tank.
> 
> *** The vault, which was big enough both sideways and up/down enough to not have a floor to speak of in a normal sense was never even meant for a humanoid to traverse and the flying retrieval bots that darted between bookcases & file storages needed none anyway.


	18. Tying up the loose ends

## Tying up the loose ends

## Ch 17

 

**Neutral space somewhere between the Kree and Xarth space**

"That's got to be them. Hurry up and prepare to haul it in before they run out of life-support." Jcaan almost needlessly orders his men already scrambling to do as told when the comparatively small silvery grey craft, originally designed only for planetary manoeuvring, punches through the planet's atmosphere and slingshots around the Hala's largest moon. Gaining considerable momentum from the gravity well.

The Milano positioned itself on a parallel path as soon as the smaller craft had completed its circle around the celestial body and was shooting towards them in a trajectory that would take it right past the larger vessel.

Soon enough the tiny craft was tethered in by boarding harpoons which were released as soon as Star-lord and Rocket had crossed over to the Milano. The abandoned ship was then disintegrated by the Milano's main guns.

"So how did it go, sir. Did you get what you needed?" Jcaan asks anxiously from his superior almost before the former has had the chance to even take of his space helmet.

"Yeah, I think so. Now get the boys make us some coffee or something-. I'm parched and we've got loads of files to go through." Rocket orders while helping Star-lord and himself undress and store their suits before joining up to share the loot with the rest of their 'circle' waiting at the common area.

* * *

"So where is it?" more than one voice asked when they all sat down around the dinner table while Rocket still hadn't produced a single piece of document or even a memory chip. Rocket eyed his comrades momentarily.

"It's all safe in here. Couldn't take anything out with me out of the vault without triggering alarms and there were loads of them files. So I had to put it all in my head." He announced simply and tapped his temple with his black index claw.

"You mean it's all memorized?" Jcaan blinked incredulously.

"Better-" Peter nods already figuring it out having witnessed Rocket doing some incredible feats with his enhanced memory before.

"since you still got _all_ my old stuff here Pete, I'm assuming this includes my S.Q.U.I.D AV-RD?" Rocket interjects.

"Yeah... even _that,_ though it creeps the hell out of me to merely admit we still have it, you know." Peter admits with a slow shudder when he thinks of what Rocket is asking for.

"Wait what is-?" Jcaan asks with a confused frown but Rocket interjects him with a raised hand.

"Superconductive QUantum Interface Detection and Audio Visual- sensory Recording Data interface." Rocket shrugs and continues as if it weren't a big deal. "Groot get me that thing -it should still be in its carry case on top those other things that's next to those delicate things in that closet we all used for stuffing shit we didn't really need anymore but weren't willing to part just yet.

"I thought the s.q.u.i.d hardware were illegal and dangerous to use." Dibar comments looking slightly disturbed.

"How come you know anything about those things, Dibar when even I've barely even a clue?" Jcaan asks from his medical sergeant.

"I retired from special ops division when this team was formed. Doesn't change the fact that they're dangerous to use sir. Besides it's in his medical file." Dibar explains without much fanfar.

"You mean dangerous as in like making you go nutzo or overheating your brains into mush? -Pfft, only happens if you're not a cyborg like me with built-in neural interface systems to handle it or when it's being used by an inexperienced interrogation technician." Rocket huffs dismissively.

Jcaan and Dibar glanced at their each other's and decided to not even really want to know why the Grand Admiral would have had such an upgrade installed at his wild youth* and while Groot doesn't seem to have an opinion in the matter one way or the other Peter's distaste for such 'devices' is fairly plain to see.

* * *

Rocket studied the contraption at his paws critically for any flaws as he brushed away the dust from its long storage. The connector of the interface; which was meant to be pressed against the user's skull to have the connector rods penetrate it, was fairly inconspicuous looking banana-shaped gunmetal grey three piece metal and polymer contraption with short stiff wires connecting the three pentagram shaped discs to one another. Three retractable golden needles at the bottom of each plate made the whole thing look like an advanced torturing device. Seeing no obvious faults, Rocket retracted the spikes with practiced ease, lubed the spikes with some disinfection fluid and slipped the thing around his left ear positioning it's centre to rest at the top of his crown between the ears and squeezed his eyes shut from the momentary pain the connectors caused by penetrating through his skull.

"We're set. First pages." he grunted pushing a few buttons on a key pad and a slightly blurry image began to sharpen on the display screen. It took a moment for the others to realize that what they were actually seeing was what Rocket's visual cortex had processed earlier.

* * *

"Frakk, I could really use some coffee right now." Rocket mumbled rubbing his eyes tiredly but declined when offered some by his teammates. "Can't, stimulants interfere with the use of this thing."

"Okay, so what have we got so far?..." Peter yawns. They had been at this meet for hours now and since the Milano's databanks were too small to hold but a fraction of the Data from inside Rocket's head, he had to stay "logged-in" and cherry-pick what they needed until they were done and the re-shuffling and transferring of data between his brains and Milano's outdated systems was slow and tiring at best.

"We should have been doing this at Xarth or Xandar where we could have purchased computing time and just loaded it all up in one go." Jcaan sighed irritably.

"Focus people! I can't keep this up forever you numbskulls." Rocket growls wanting to get the session back on track and over.

"Sorry" All four of them mumble in near unison.

"Alright! I think we've got something... Rocket go back a step. -Stop! Right there." Star-lord suddenly jumps up and starts waving at the projected image with his hands. Rocket does as instructed with a small groan.

"Okay. Now who the heck is that guy? His been in almost every one of the pictures, particularly for the bio-weapon disposal auctions." Peter comments with a frown once Rocket has gone through six more security reports about the old silos being sold to be dismantled.

"How can you be sure? They look nothing alike, not even same species, height or sex." Rocket asks skeptically.

"I used to be a con man and you'd be surprised just how many Skrulls there are in that business. After awhile you'll start 'feeling' them out for the lack of better word... Now make note for the names of those people I pointed and cross-reference them with other places they've been sighted at the same time and day.

"Okay, that should confirm if it's a Skrull buying a warehouse full of bio-weapon material." Rocket nods rubbing his forehead and records the requested stills and relevant files on the Milano's mainframe for later use.

"After that it's just following the money... You okay Rocket?" Peter frowns drawing the groups attention to Rocket's pained stature.

"I-I'm... Fine." Rocket grunts blinking with a dazed look in his eyes.

"I am Groot!" _No you're not, cut it out and stop playing a hero."_ Groot scolds Rocket who glares at him but obeys with a sigh. The image display blinks out at Rocket's removal of the interface which is accompanied by a faint nauseatingly slushy sound. He throws the mucus encrusted interface on the table with a clatter to rub at the spot atop his head where it previously lay.

"Eww, careful with that thing man! I don't want your brain juices leaking all over my table." Star-lord protests.

"On this table surface, whose gonna notice?" Rocket retorts sarcastically while Dibar applies some bandages over the tiny punctures in Rocket's head.

* * *

"So, it's a Skrull all right, but how are we going to find him? It's not like we can just flash a picture of its face to people ya know." Rocket huffs slurping a big mug of coffee while sitting on a table scrolling the display reading about the weapon sales.

"Well, I've been making a list... " Peter nods scribbling down on a pad which Rocket noted to be with that weird Terran handwriting alphabet they called cursive. It had never really seized to amaze him how one planet could have dozens of alphabets when most of the known Galaxy went by just fine with no more than twenty.

"Gimmeh!" Rocket said making 'grabby hands' motions.

 

> -Knife needed help in getting out and started, but he isn't talking. -someone with deep pockets?
> 
> -Someone tipped him off about the raid to his base. -must be someone with influence?
> 
> -The knowledge of when was the bio-nanite made, stored, and delivered before it got into wrong hands. -The Skrull, but whose he working for?

It was a good list Rocket admitted aloud while mentally adding: -Finding those flarknards trying to ice me at the alley. Though he knew it to be mostly futile wish.

"You know what I like about Kree the best? They follow their orders to the letter. Man, they've noted down pretty much everything about the buyers except maybe dental charts and personal taste in wines..." Star-lord muses going through the personnel files of the buyers which Rocket had acquired from the Kree archives along with the rest of the files they were combing through.

"Never mind that crap, it's worthless since we're talking about a Skrull here. Just cross-check if that person is still listed as being alive or presumed dead." Rocket shrugs now working on a list of bio-weapon manufacturers that had reported their 'wares' missing during the war or soon after. Peter glanced at Rocket and concentrated on his own list.

"Dead, dead, dead, missing, alive, dead, missing, missing, alive but in jail... You know Rocket, I think we're having a pattern here. I think this guy's been at this for a long while."

"How so?"

"Well, if you look at the times of death of these guys whose ID our mystery Skrull has taken; they've all died in accidents or have simply gone missing, usually within three or four years and sometimes in just days after the sales are complete... and this guy's been buying a lot. Yet no one connected the dots because he was under a different false ID in almost each sale."

"You mean his been stockpiling?" Rocket blinks in surprise.

"Can't think of any other reasons since none of this crap has turned up in black market in quantity over the years as far as I can tell. I mean look at it; Plasma rail-guns, bio-weapons, personal power armors, military surplus junk, including a fighter jet or two and then in later auctions even major planetary weapon systems. If he'd been brokering this stuff we'd know."

"Well flark me! You're right about that, I'm pretty sure I would have seen at least a dozen red flag reports by now if even half the crap in this list would have been seen floating around at the criminal circles, especially those Terrigen crystals." Rocket says grimly.

"Terrigen crystals? That sounds like something I should know..." Peter stars scratching his head in an attempt to recall the memory.

"Yeah, you should. It's the main component for T-bombs. Remember Disradi-system and the Inhuman wars between Kree and Shiar some thirty years back? Of course you weren't there at the time but still; just one was enough to wreck the whole solar system and rip open _that_ sector wide rupture on the fabric of time  & space that we had to plug." Rocket tells with a touch of dread in his voice.

"Ohh frakk... We'd better find this guy and fast." Peter yelps wide eyed.

* * *

Rocket had spent the next three hours after their meeting had ended as almost completely zoned-out and barely responding to anything unless directly addressed by name if even then. Peter, Jcaan and Dibar had initially been worried that the session with the S.Q.U.I.D might have done something to Rocket but Groot's insistence of the opposite had convinced them that that there was nothing wrong with their furry teammate and that he was merely resting and properly digesting the torrent of information he'd gained from the vault into his unfaltering memory.

"Any luck yet Rocky?" Peter asks placing a mug of coffee next to Rocket on the table and was surprised to elicit a response from the reclusive ring-tail.

"Not now, I'm cross-referencing Xandar-files with the Kree-files. Though, I think we might have something... The phenotype of the biotech nano-weapon used against us at Xarth matches to what was contracted to a Kree company for disposal who then delivered a sample to another company, a research firm at Cyris-II who then recently delivered it forward to a third party and within three days from the delivery this buyer was reported missing and presumed dead which fits to the pattern of the Skrull we're looking for." Rocket says coming out from his self-induced stupor reaching for the coffee.

"Why's that relevant. It's just a sample, right?" Peter asks uncertainly.

"Those rapid growth biotech nanos need almost nothing but a bathtub and the right solution of nutrient to be re-grown into thousands from a mere test tube sample."

"So another cold trail?" Peter sighs glumly.

"Didn't say that. What I suggest is that we start by backtracking that shipment and follow the bodies. They'll eventually lead us to its current alias." Rocket replies with a devil-may-care tone though his eager posture speaks in quite another tone.

"Cyris-II then?" Peter suggests.

"You've got anywhere else you'd need to be more urgently for the next two days?"

* * *

 

 

 

> *At this point there are only a handful of people still alive at the Galaxy who know the actual full history of Subject 89P13 alias Rocket the Raccoon and his myriad enhancements. Most of his current associates believe him to be a former mercenary from Procyon-6 at Sirius major star cluster near Keystone quadrant and he prefers to keep it that way. As the Terran saying goes; If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck...


	19. Hunt for Lysis

## Hunt for Lysis

## Ch 18

 

**Cyanus cluster, Cyris system- planet 2, Alpha-7 quadrant – the old spartax colonies.**

**Late morning hours**

**26h after the events at Hala**

 

While Cyris-II was fairly modern as far as planets go its cities had managed to stay fairly concentrated in size & scope and held-on to a semblance of rustic charm from by-gone eras. Something which was quickly becoming a rarity among the more developed worlds. The capital of the planet, Panophlan was no different. Apart from the spaceport, most of the buildings dotting the landscape at the capital were relatively low storied with their facades mostly masoned from shiny pale white-yellow stone indigenous to the planet. Only a few structures were more than three to four stories high. The glaring tropical sun made the buildings glow almost too painful to look at directly, which did nothing to raise the appeal of the locale to Rocket who was already feeling miserable from the heat in his thick fur. Nothing exciting ever happened in these planets and you rarely found good bargains for high-tech equipment or parts but Groot liked them so he put up with the boredom and endured the extreme climates whenever his friend wanted to visit a one. Though this time it was going to be a bit different, there were certain people hiding on this planet and they needed to find them.

Preliminary inquiries based on their own research and some back alley-variety help from Star-lord's old contacts had confirmed that a Spartoi named Verdun Spiggs was the last one who reportedly saw their Mystery Skrull's latest alias. Spiggs was also a loan shark and minor intergalactic mobster besides known trafficker of contraband goods which ironically enough made him actually easier to track down than tracking a law abiding citizen with nine to five job would have been.

* * *

"This should be it, if our sources didn't screw us like rookies." Star-lord muses as he pulls their rental vehicle to a stop at the curb opposite the fairly nice looking bar & restaurant-club that was at the corner of two busy streets. He felt vaguely at unease for what they were about to do. There was a good reason he rarely played at being a cop -a Nova cop in particular and right now they had a vehicle full of fake coppers.

"They seemed trustworthy enough and the name fits." Rocket comments from the back seat, his brows furrowing in thought as he glares at the establishment. The club proudly proclaimed itself as Spigg's speakeasy in bright neon and sported huge dark tinted one-way scenic windows to both street sides with the main door cut to an alcove situated at the corner between both windowed sides, giving a clear view for the staff and customers from the inside to see who was queuing or gathering outside.

"I don't like it. It's like a fish tank if anyone starts shooting." Jcaan complains in his professional capacity as the head of Rocket's bodyguard, sitting at the front passenger seat next to Peter.

"Nah, it's too posh a club for them to try killing us right on the porch if they get spooked too badly... Holding up the reputation is what keeps these joints alive and he won't risk losing it just for a pod shot or two, especially against cops." Star-lord comments knowingly.

"Alright then, everyone knows what to do?" Rocket asks turning his head to look around at the faces in the vehicle."

"Look like cops waiting as 'inconspicuous' back-up while we three go in to see if you can shake something out and the secondary unit monitors the other exits and scouts the outside and prepares to intercept if the target is in and attempts to leave." Jcaan sighs having gone through with this same conversation at least twice now.

"Right let's go." Rocket announces and cocks his laser carbine to which Star-lord frowns.

"Just the pistols, Rocket. We're not here to cause a scene, remember."

"Spoilsport." Rocket snorts adjusting his nova officer jacket to hide his definitely not Nova issued pistols but he leaves out the riffle he'd supposedly taken with him as a backup, on the vehicle when they dismount to the sidewalk.

* * *

Verdun Spiggs Sighs and gets up from the leather backed office arm chair he was slouching at to peek through the Speakeasy's peeping hole which in this case was the security monitor.

" And you fools thought it's a frackin' police raid. Nova Cops my ass... You idiots! That's the mother fucking Rocket himself right there! Tell the boys to get the hell out of here and I mean right now!" Spiggs orders feeling beads of sweat already forming on his brow. He knew the reputation of _The Rocket._ Hell anyone that was somebody outside the straight and narrow path knew who _The Rocket_ was and what he stood for which gave anyone with a bounty placed on their heads or something to hide from the law plenty of reasons to stay out of his reach and the bounty had had to be substantial if that 'beast' was here in person. He wasn't sure about the Xarthian with him or the guy in Terran spacer fashion- outfit, probably a Spartoi though. Weird how hard it was to tell a difference at a glance between a Terran and a Spartoi. Terran's didn't visit these parts of the galaxy but Spartoi were common enough as this was originally one of their old outpost colonies even if they were a distinct minority now.

The hidden backroom of the bar emptied through the back faster than a piñata breaks at the fat kids birthday party as soon as the word got around among his people & customers happily gambling at his hidden casino that raid was going in place; and they realized that the short and fluffy copper wasn't just one of those regular 'weirdo aliens' from Procyon-6 looking for a score but the poster boy for those gun loving ring-tailed psycho furries himself.. Spiggs was fairly sure that not even a real raid by Nova or local cops could have made his customers move out so fast and abandon their chips and winnings on the tables and slot machines. It had been a slow day at gambling anyway so he might as well head home for a few hours and come back later, once he'd found out why his kickbacks hadn't kept his club or himself of the hit-list like they were supposed to, he thought nodding at his bodyguards as they opened the door for him to step into his vehicle at the back alley to drive him away.

Which would have been the prudent choice if not for the little fact that he and his men were suddenly staring at several guns pointed at them by a group of what looked like Xarthian mercenaries and... a tree?

"I am Groot!"

A talking tree? He thought just before the creature took his lights out with a beautiful right hook.

* * *

"Think they're buying it?" Rocket whispers to Star-lord & Jcaan accompanying him inside the bar & nightclub once they've flashed their badges to the Badoon bartender and his staff.

"Nah, plan B?" Star-lord whispers back.

"Plan B." Rocket agrees.

"They were on the move sir. The target was apprehended. We're holding the target now." Their ear-piece com-links announce almost as soon as Rocket, Jcaan & Peter had managed to find a place to sit at the bar counter and had consumed the first round of orders the Badoon barkeep had begrudgingly brought. It appeared that he was unsure if they actually were Nova cops or not and decided to play it safe in case they actually were.

"Well that sure was fast. Man you've sure made yourself the people's favorite Rocky... They probably thought someone had put a bounty or warrant on them and you're here to collect in-person." Star-lord snickers trying not give a full blown laughter and choke on his beer.

"Thanks, I do try." Rocket grins back sipping at his local variant of club soda.

"Okay, drink up!" Peter says emptying his glass and readies for action.

"Not yet, we're supposedly waiting for an Ok-signal to show up. Have at least another round and trust my boys to do their job. We'll act when they give the signal." Rocket hushes pulling Peter back down to sit with him and rises his paw signaling for the barkeep for another round to be brought in.

"Okay now." He notes in hushed voice to his company and closes his beeping comm device.

When the barkeep gets close enough Rocket pulls him closer from the scruff of his neck and pulls out his gun pointing it surreptitiously at his neckline below the jaw. "Now listen up pall. You're going to announce that this place is going to shut down for half an hour about right now because there's been complaints about an infestation of pests... and the extermination is about to start."

The barkeep blinks in surprise when his suddenly being yanked forward from the collar but shuts his protests about as soon as he feels the cold barrel against his skin. "Hey-! I-am sure, whatever you say, I mean, I just work here... Customer's always right, right?"

"Keep it up, you'll live longer. Now make them leave or I'll make you into just one more notch in my gun." Rocket snorts pointing with a nod at the other few customers sitting inside and releases the now slightly more pale than usual lizard man's collar, showing him backwards for emphasis. The Badoon makes a face and glares without a word at Rocket and his friends before doing as told and announcing that the club needed to be closed momentarily for maintenance reasons.

"Now, take the dames and start walking..." Rocket commands loudly, hopping on the bar counter and waives with his guns to the direction of the toilets. Jcaan and Star-lord join him by brandishing their own weapons and help herding the frightened waitresses in to restroom with the barkeep.

"You're no copper! You're making a big mistake here! Nobody runs shit from Mr. Spiggs and gets away with it." The barkeep tries one last time.

"Yadda yadda ya... What the frack makes you think I didn't already know that? And you know what, I couldn't care less what that worthless sack of flark thinks." Rocket huffs standing atop the bar counter arms crossed across his chest and spits a big glob of snot on the counter for good measure. Star-lord jams a chair on the restroom door to keep the staff in until they're done. While Jcaan locks the front door to keep anyone from wandering in through the front.

"Oh come on, man. That' wasn't very hygienic." Peter smirks at Rocket.

"Who cares, lest go. Spiggs and blowtorch have a date at the backroom." Rocket snorts hopping down from the counter. He pushes at a button under the counter's lip and head's up to the speakeasy casino through now open hidden door which hasn't really been hidden at all to his keen senses.

* * *

"All right boys, now where's Spiggs?" Rocket asks from his men when the three of them meet the rest of their team at the end of the short stairway and corridor leading from the bar to the casino & office proper.

"At his office, sir." Second ensign Jciin informs snappily.

"Good, make sure you boys are ready to leave in twenty and bring me some of those tools laying around and a piece of robe and a wet rag about this large." Rocket orders making a large square with his paws. Jciin nods wasting no time in wondering what his superior might need them for.

"Look Rocket you really don't need to do it like this." Peter starts to protest quietly. He was pretty sure of what Rocket had in mind and while not squeamish he wasn't exactly going to just approve the 'heightened interrogation' without batting an eyelid, which seemed to be next in his old friend's to-do-list.

"Look, it's fine if you don't like it. I respect that. Now let me do my job and wait here until I'm done." Rocket coolly tells him walking in to the office and slams the sound proofed office door shut in front of Star-lord for emphasis.

Though the office isn't that small it's very much dwarfed by the presence of an eight foot tree-man guarding Spiggs who was currently shackled to his office chair.

"I am Groot?" _What the heck is that junk for. You're not going to use them on him are you?_ Groot asks eyeing the box of tools and assorted knickknacks Rocket dumps on the table some of it spilling on the floor.

"Wait outside Groot." He tells him shortly.

"I am Groot?" _You sure it's a good idea Rocket?_

"To him it won't be so good. Now leave us. I prefer to do this in my own slow pace." Rocket repeats dangerously while Biggs feels a nervous tick in his spine. Groot hesitates momentarily before doing as told.

"I'll start with a simple question and you'll answer or else. Capisce?" Rocket says checking out the battery of a cordless power drill before weighting the tool against a rusty hammer, finally settling for the drill as his 'main'.

"Nah, I'm more into high tech. Hammer's a bit too rustic & old fashioned for my kinda guy, don't you think? Got to keep up with the times you know." He croons maliciously while momentarily brandishing both as if planning to use them in akimbo.

" D... Do you think I'm afraid of you?" Spiggs gulps trying to avoid looking at the tools in Rocket's paws.

"Your shaking knees say otherwise. Which kneecap do you want to keep? And speaking of joints are you right- or lefthander? I figures it's only polite to ask before going into this." Rocket retorts deceptively mildly and caresses Spiggs kneecaps with the drill bit sending shivers of dread along the man's spine.

"Answer me and you might walk out of here! Lie and you won't even make it long enough to bleed out... Do you understand me?" Rocket emphasizes with a sudden rise in his pitch causing Spiggs to twitch.

"Y-yes!" Spiggs gulps audibly and nods vigorously.

"Good. Now where's your business associate?" Rocket pushes, displaying a mug shot of his quarry in his datapad's screen.

"He- he goes by the name of Lysis. Look, I Think -know his a Skrull but that's not a crime, is it?" Spiggs almost squeaks.

"No, but trafficking contraband weapons of mass destruction is and the Kree want their stuff back and I've no qualms in handing you over for more 'thorough processing'." Rocket snarls jumping up on the table with the drill whirling menacingly at his tiny paws, causing Spiggs to blink and lick his lips nervously.

"Um perhaps we could be civilized here and work out a trade?" He offers sweating nervously and leaning back as much as the chair allowed him, to get away from the damn drill whirring at his eye level. The Raccoonoid with the menacing drill bit had made him lose some of his nerve but the Kree... The mere thought of the Kree secret intelligence service coming after him was enough to make him almost crap into his pants. Rocket would probably just ask a bunch of questions and maybe put a hole into his knee or shock his genitals with electricity if he was displeased with what he offered and then maybe kill him, which terrified him enough as it were but the Kree... To Kree that would be just the warm-up before getting serious. No Skrull was worth protecting enough to go through _that_. Hell, he wouldn't' do it even for his own mother. Especially not for her -That sordid old battleaxe!

He mentally sighs in relief when the four legged death incarnate powers the drill down and points it away from his eyeballs.

"Well, let's hear it. Frakk me and the bit goes in -though the _eyes_." It says sounding yet unconvinced.

* * *

"I got what we need. Let's move people." Rocket announces walking out from the office ten minutes later, conspicuously without any of his tools.

"You didn't, did you..?" Peter is almost afraid to ask. Rocket could be cruel and uncaring even downright brutal but by what Peter knew he was never sadistic.

"Tch - Of course not you bleeding heart liberal! I'm a soldier not a monster but that dumb krutack back there doesn't know that. He'll be fine though he'll never again look at cute fluffy animals in quite the same light as before..." Rocket huffs at Peter unvoiced questions.

"Like after watching Happy tree friends reruns then." Star-lord smiles and nods dropping the issue.

"I've no idea what that is but I'll take your word for it." Rocket scowls baring his pearly white canines like he always did when unsure if he was being praised or mocked.

* * *

"His still inside?" Star-lord asks from their boys when they arrive at the big walled mansion located by the sea just outside the Rongaan-city limits. The medium sized 'palace' was where Lysis was currently residing according to Spiggs and according to Rocket there was little reason to believe that the man had lied. Peter had been slightly surprised that their main target still was even at the same planet.

"Yes, and surrounded by at least two dozen guards or more by our count." Jcaan confirms putting down the binoculars.

"Weapons?"

"The usual small arms, some pistols and a couple of heavy laser carbines. 40-60 milliwatt range by the looks of them. The Xarthian sums without much emotion. This here was something he knew and was comfortable with.

"So nothing too heavy." Star-lord nods thinking about it and turns to look at Rocket. "Think we can handle it Rock?"

"Right now? Frakk no. He probably knows we're in town and his guards are in high alert. What we need is something to fool him into thinking that we've left so he'll lower the guard and we can take out the guards and nab him at his house when he isn't prepared. I'd do it at some club or maybe street where there's always less guns between him and us but there's a risk, the inevitable shooting will alert the local peace officers and unlike at Delan-III this planet isn't a frickin 'hole' with damn near worthless law enforcement officers. But I've got a plan that should work..." Rocket sums up while rubbing his chin in thought.

* * *

The desk mounted communicator winked on-line and a silhouette of an alien appeared. "They've left the planet, boss." the man said.

"Good. Put a survey drone out to make sure they're really gone from the system." Lysis orders, nervously wringing his hands together as the Alien's holo-projection winks out. A nervous tick he'd copied from the original. He'd always known that this day would come eventually. Every Skrull worth his salt knew he had _that_ day coming eventually. It didn't make it any more pleasant, especially when you felt attached to a particular disguise. Not to the person that had been the original Erdugan Lysis -mind you, but everything else about him, wealth, privacy, connections, respect, all the thing you couldn't really just buy with credits or units. It was a dangerous thing; attachment, one could easily get lost in his role. Many of his friends had been discovered and met their ends that way over the years. Perhaps it was time to go. He would miss this planet. As much fun as it had been to plan the takedown of Xarth, he preferred to keep his hide much more than conquering planets for the once glorious Skrull empire.

Bleep from the desk communicator woke him up from his musings. "Report?"

"They've left the system, boss."

"Keep the drone out for a few days more in case they come back later." He orders nervously tapping his fingers against the table.

* * *

Cold night was falling fast and streetlights were lighting up around the city. Even the ever frenetic Rongaan spaceport had slowed down in its activity with the guard droids appearing to patrol the perimeter for the night. The only living things moving at the cargo yard were in one of the cargo containers. Rocket cracked the door ajar peering at the yard, his ears moving like radar dishes and catching even the faintest of sounds from any incoming guard bots. Darkness was no problem for them since Rocket had natural night vision, Peter had his mask and the Xarthians had night vision settings in their helmets but it helped to mask them from any fleshy passer by's that might happen to wander nearby and peek at the darkened yard.

"Looks good so far Rocket." Star-lord whispers leaning next to his friend inside the pitch-dark container.

"We're not out of the woods yet, Pete. Just hope they're not Mk VIII bots."

"Why, is that a bad thing? They can't be that much harder than mark VI's or VII's. Those things are dumb and slow as a brick." Star-lord shrugs confidently to which Rocket deigns not to even reply.

"We're clear to move. Come on people go, go , go!" Rocket whispers loudly, ushering his remaining team to move out. They had had to leave Groot and some of the other guys on the ship to make the plan work since old M-class models like Milano had very limited fly-by-wire through remote options without excessive tinkering and Peter had never allowed Rocket to finish with the needed modifications despite him being more than qualified enough to make the changes, perhaps in the rightful fear of Rocket one day taking the remote controls into his grabby paws and using Peter's baby for something both daring and potentially hazardous for the ship's integrity. It also happened to require an exceptional pilot to be flown solo.

As a Raccoonoid Rocket was naturally stealthy and would have had fairly little chance of being caught by even the latest Mk VIII-bots but his entourage wasn't or rather not stealthy enough which becomes evident about ten yards from their goal, a mesh wire fenced gate separating the cargo yard from the runway strips, when he hears the low almost silent hum (even to him)of anti-grav plates and the whirring sound of heavy dual blasters being warmed-up behind and above them. The cyber-genetically enhanced Raccoonoid turns around towards the sounds faster than anyone would have thought from someone of his age, both guns already drawn before completing the turn, and lets loose; streaking dozens of shots above his fellows heads. Exploding the two guard bots, just about to open fire on their group from above. At that moment when both metal carcasses hit the ground with a loud clang almost on top of the group, Rocket gives the _'I told ya'-_ look to Peter whose face is pretty much unreadable behind that mask of his. Jcaan's lips are moving but no sounds are coming out which probably means the man is swearing like a Shi'ar pirate under his breath. Dibar seems momentarily transfixed by something else. Xan has that annoying hero worship look about him while Xerth and Ebiex try to look at every direction at once. Xoriz and Jciin seem to just chalk the suddenly dead bots as nothing unusual. While Jceen, Xarthax, Yuezh and Yeliz barely manage to even react. And then there were Obarth and Chixi who had the 'luck' of being hit by the debris from the falling bots though they seemed mostly unhurt.

Rocket was just about to give a quick pep talk and tell them to get their asses back on gear, when dozens of Mk VIII bots begin to swarm in from all directions like angry hornets, alerted by the destruction of one of their own. A siren starts to blare just as the new bots come into view and all hell breaks loose on the yard.

"Frakk me! Move people, just frackin' move unless you want to face the great maker's mercy in person!" Rocket yells at the top of his lungs while appearing to fire in three directions at once with his laser pistols when their group springs into action sprinting towards the gate, while doing their best at evading the shots being fired at them from almost every direction.

"The gate! The gate, it's fucking locked!" Star-lord screams rattling it in frustration.

"Well, flarking shoot it open already! We're fracking dying out here for Pama sakes!" Rocket yells back without daring to look at what Star-dork was doing, concentrating most of his effort into dodging shots from those blasted bots swarming over them. Out of his sight someone screams in agony, he doesn't dare to care enough to turn to look who, concentrating on blasting one more bot to bits. Another bot rises to shoot at his left, he turns fast as lightning and someone screams as he shoots that one down too. It takes a moment for him to realize that he was the one who screamed in pain. He can feel the familiar nauseating dizziness of going into shock from the pain and trips, falling forward on his knees. The shot had grazed more than just the gash at his side -the belt keeping his pant up. He pushes away the hands trying to help him back up. The gate is suddenly thrown open. _Run you fools, run!_ He yells wordlessly, scrambling back to his feet and forces his body to work despite its painful protests.

"We need a ship to get into, they're programmed to avoid harming property!" Rocket yells trying to shoot and hold his pants up at the same time while also pressing at the nasty gash at his side and still running as fast as he was able to in order keep up with the group and not slow them down. He was too busy with staying alive to barely even register that they were running into the private runway strip-part of the port. the swarm of guard bots still hot in pursuit.

"Which one Rocky!" Star-lord yells going down on his knees to avoid the shot that nearly takes his head off.

"Try the spiffy blue one on the left hangar! I don't frackin' care just get one of those rust buckets on-line and moving. If you've ever got the meaning of the word now, then now's the fracking time!" Rocket retorts back an angry snark and barrel rolls away from a stray shot coming at his torso.

"Me? You're the D'ast astromechanic here!" Star-lord retorts before dashing off to do as instated.

Someone yells in pain again. Jcaan screams something which is impossible to make out over the general cacophony of weapons firing and everyone yelling and screaming at the same time. It doesn't matter since Star-lord gets the closest surface ship's anti-theft-protection overridden and the aft-side cargo hatch pops open. Rocket dives in head first before turning around at the mouth of the hatch to return cover fire with the rest of the team that was piling in, to help Ebiex pull unconscious Xoris inside through the hatch by the collar. Rocket closes the hatch just in time when the ship turns sharply and blasts off from the runway.

* * *

"Medic! We need a help over here!" Jcaan yells scrambling towards Rocket as soon as the ship is flying level enough that they're no longer bunched up in a pile on the floor or pressed and tossed against the sides of the hull.

"I'm flarkin' fine Jcaan. Worry more about Xoris and that bleeding gash on your own arm." Rocket protests already rolling a hasty auto tourniquet & bandage combo around his torso*and heads for the cockpit.

"Turn this frackin' bird around!" Rocket orders Star-lord when he notices the direction they were heading to -back to Panophlan.

"What! why, are you crazy? We're not going back to Rongaan. We were supposed to meet the others back in Panophlan."

"We're not going to leave yet. We need that Skrull first." Rocket demands.

"He'll no, no change of plans now. We're lucky that the port cops aren't shooting us down any minute now." Star-lord replies looking at Rocket in utter disbelief.

"Just give me the damn controls and I'll show you how it's done." Rocket sighs hopping on the co-pilot seat, not in the mood to explain his intentions in detail.

Peter studies fidgeting Rocket for a good long moment. "Fine but you'll owe me big time and not just for this..."

"Relax, Pete. Have I ever let you down or gotten you into prison because of me?" Rocket asks rhetorically and turns the ship around into a sharp dive towards the ground.

"Rocket. You little shi-it!" Peter screams as the sudden change in direction slams him hard against his seat.

* * *

 

> *Normally an auto tourniquet is tied around ones limb, such as a leg or arm or more rarely; even around ones neck, but Rocket was small enough to easily fit one around his mid torso or waist. Many a mercenary preferred to have them preemptively tied around their arms and legs while on the field, just in case of being shot or having stepped into a mine, since the tourniquet is designed to automatically tighten as much as needed to stop the user from bleeding out without preventing normal blood circulation.


	20. Homecoming

## Homecoming

## Ch 19

 

The mansion had seen many kinds of entries during its history, some more dignified than others but never before had it witnessed an entry such as this; A small blue cargo runner crashed through the front gate and blasted through the front yard in full speed, making a quick loop around the separate east wing before landing hastily on the inner yard between the east wing and main house. Its tail jet setting some of the topiary hedges on fire in the process. The guards at the walls and perimeter stared in amazement before their mesmerizing broke and almost all of them rushed to the blue ship at the yard to see what kind of daft idiot was flying the craft. The hatch at the back of the ship opened slowly amid the hiss and steam from the cooling engines. A brown haired and clean shaved Spartoi male dressed in red leather jacket and grey pants, knee length boots and white shirt slowly stepped out into view, cradling a small box at his arms.

"Hey now, I'm really sorry about this guys. I think the gas throttle jammed for a sec there." He explains with a goofy grin and attempts a winning smile though the guards aren't amused by a one bit and point their guns threateningly at him. "Put the box down on the ground and lay down slowly on your knees with your hands spread out or we WILL shoot you where you stand". The man obeys with a whelp and his smile sours a little.

"Now would be the frackin' time if you're going to do it Rocky!" He yells throwing the box on the feet of the biggest knot of guards before diving away from them into his belly on the short grass, a metal facemask already covering his face when he lands. The box explodes almost immediately after touching the ground, covering all the guards and some of his own clothes into thick oily colorless cloud of horridly stinking liquid. Those who don't fall on their knees and pass out from shock right away, begin to claw at their burning faces and exposed skin while coughing and wheezing in severe pain before collapsing as well. Leaving nothing but cleaning up the scene for Rocket and his men rushing through the deserted gate.

Star-lord blinks behind his mask, slowly standing up to view the effects of the stink bomb Rocket had devised from simple household chemicals in a matter of hours.

"Wow, I didn't even consider that a simple modified butyric acid would be this powerful. Man it stinks even through this mask". Rocket mumbles from behind his homemade breathing mask while they tie up the guards.

"And nobody died, Rocket. See, that's strategy." Peter can't help gloating a little on the success of his plan.

"Yet! Come on we've still got the palace to-, Get down!" Rocket grunts in sudden alarm and slams at Peter knocking him down on his ass just when a stray shot from the open upper story window would have hit him squarely on the chest, passing now harmlessly on the ground. They all scramble into cover behind their slightly ruined ship, landscaped shrubbery and decorative vases littering the yard, when a new barrage of automatic fire sweeps through the yard from the upper story windows.

"Frakk! We've got to move fast guys! They've probably already called in the cops or their army of hired mercs and we really don't want to deal with either one." Rocket curses while giving pod shots at the windows whenever he sees something moving behind them.

"Yeah, that would be bad." Peter admits shooting at someone peeking at the windows, who responds with a satisfying shriek from being hit by his blaster through the glass.

"Not nearly as bad as your smell Mr. Quill". Jcaan retorts attempting at humour while reloading his gun to continue shooting.

"Well excuse me." Peter mutters feigning indignant though he does have the tiniest of smiles at his lips.

"All right, here's the plan guys; I'll lead one team, either you or Jcaan leads the other one inside with me while the third lays cover fire for distraction. We'll rush the building from both exits there and there-" Rocket explains pointing at the two double doors positioned on both sides of the glassed in terrace walk.

"-and the third team gives cover fire so they won't immediately figure out what's going on. Now pay attention as this is important; once inside we need to move fast. Our guys giving cover fire will have only so much ammunition and the moment they can't keep the upstairs goons entertained the said goons will either regroup to find better positions to hold up or they rush down on us en force at the atrium lobby and that's bad for us in either case. And did I mention that they may already have sent for reinforcements? So we've got to move out as fast as we go in so no looting or sightseeing, if someone holes up in his room... Use the grenades. We don't have the time to interrogate or take prisoners except Lysis himself and though his a Skrull, his also very typical one and as such loves his own skin and isn't likely to be anywhere near the front lines. So stun any lone stragglers you see -just in-case and in-case he tries to trick you by shape shifting into one of us the safe word is 'amber moon?' Got it?" they all nod in response.

"Okay, rock-paper-scissors, Jcaan?" Peter says raising and shaking his fist at the other man.

"you're seriously going to fight me over the leadership of a team at a moment like this?" Jcaan ask staring at Star-lord, simply unable to believe that the Terran would be willing to do such things at a time like this.

"No man! It's- Ah forget this, we haven't got the time. You stay here and I'll storm the house with Rocket, and I'll owe you big one, okay?

"Sure, I can do that." Jcaan agrees with slight confusion before tagging the Terran's issues as a needles distraction. He could always ask later what this rock, paper-thing actually meant. Rocket eyes the two man and sighs before calling for their men to group themselves into three.

Dibar, Xan, and Jciin would go with Rocket while Jceen, Xarthax and Yuezh would stay with the Captain and still unconscious Xoriz and Yeliz, Obarth and Chixi would go with Star-lord.

"On my mark. NOW!" Rocket yells and the two groups charge out towards both entrances while the remaining team blankest the windows and the open floored atrium area with bullets, plasma and breaking glass.

* * *

Star-lord steadied his nerves by going through what he was going to do in his mind. _Man, I haven't led a unit in battle for years._ _Got to make this look good._ _Das't, I hope there's nobody waiting behind the door when we kick it in_. He breaths in heavily and gives a go signal with his free hand to his 'boys' who nodded and hefted their guns in response. He then kicks the door in with way more force than was actually necessary and they dash inside guns blazing.

Rocket Tries the lock at the door. Noticing it locked, he quickly shoots a small charge on the lock, breaking it open, and ushers his boys inside. The open story atrium space floor is littered with the debris from broken windows, chipped masonry, torn chandeliers and shattered house plant pottery. A wide flight of stairs is leading upstairs. Two double doors on either side led to inner parts of the mansion and the two single doors under the landing balcony of the flight of stairs would lead to the basement or maybe a car pool of some kind as far as Rocket could surmise by just looking at the single doors.

"Concentrate your fire on the upper story. we're rushing the upstairs." He orders Jcaan via comm channel before motioning for Star-lord at the other end of the now truly 'open' atrium space to secure the doors next to the stairs while waving for his men to move forward and secure the upper floor rooms.

"Wait here, I'll check the basement floor." Peter says peeking behind the heavy wood panelled door which indeed seemed to lead into basement.

Peter descended the stairs carefully. He had no wish to get ambushed and end up like a swiss-cheese. _Heh, Swiss and wish; they even rime_. The lower floor was indeed some kind of motor pool area and cellar space. A large open space with fairly low ceiling and heavy concrete pylons supporting the roof and upper stories. He could see an elevator at the far end wall and several shiny fireproofed metal doors which probably led to maintenance rooms or other housekeeping spaces that were ubiquitous in large buildings like this. Otherwise the area seemed fairly empty. He noted with a bit of disappointment that not even a nice collection of vintage vehicles was present. Just an old "limo" and a few less conspicuous vehicles which were likely to belong to Lysis' thugs. Seeing as there was nothing special at the pool Peter went to check the maintenance rooms just to be on the safe side. Never noticing the man reaching out from behind a pillar, raising his blaster rifle to his shoulder and aiming carefully.

* * *

Rocket noted with approval that Star-lord had placed his men to guard the exits as tasked, before he rushed to upstairs with his group and fanned across the balcony, each taking a room to storm. Kick the door in, throw in a stun grenade, next room, repeat until done. Fast, straightforward and efficient with enemy stupid enough to coral themselves, just the way he liked it. Had those goons actually thought things out and kept mobile instead of holing up inside rooms and worrying naught but their own skin, they'd had had a very different battle at their hands.

"Alright Jcaan, bring your boys in. The Atrium lobby is secured but leave someone to keep our ship running. We're already overstaying our welcome with no sign of Lysis yet." Rocket informed the Captain via comm link from the landing while fanning away the haze of smoke from the grenades with his palm, stepping over the debris into rooms to check on their new prisoners. None of them was Lysis or claimed to know where the Skrull was right now. A pity really.

"Hey Pete! Pete? Come in you daft humie-?" Rocket calls for Peter via comm link.

Ssshh-, krtz-z-, sss-, and a blip indicating an established connection is the only reply Rocket gets despite boosting the signal in case of possible interference. Which meant that their comms were working fine but why wasn't the man answering? The d'ast thing was a built-in part of his combat visor so it was very unlikely for Peter to just take it off.

_For Frakk sakes, not again...Don't do this to me life._ Rocket sighs wringing his palms together in worry. he checks his twin pistols thrice to be sure they've got enough juice left for a firefight and dashes downstairs, yelling for his men to come with him after Star-lord.

* * *

Rocket descended the stairs in a blurry, leaving his men to scramble after him as best as they may, fully committed to shooting down anyone standing in his way. He froze at the end of the stairs. His keen nose immediately picking up the heavy coppery scent of blood mixed with the slight acrid of discharged blaster bolt and the eye watering waft of butyric acid residue. Peter was lying on the floor face down in a rapidly widening pool of blood. The man nudging Peter with his foot to check if he was really dead, stopped his poking and turned to look at Rocket with a slight frown, hesitating as if unsure how much of a threat a furry midget like Rocket might actually be even with a gun at each paw. Big mistake, his biggest among many and also his last of many.

"You D'astard! This 'coon's gonna Frakk you up!" Rocket screams in blind fury, dropping his guns to draw his plasma knife before bum rushing on the surprised guard. The man hefts his gun at him but Rocket doesn't give a Frack. He was seeing the figurative red and was d'ast well going to see a lot of red coming out of that mother krutack. Pound for pound to pay for that which was leaking out from Peter.

* * *

The Xarthians running after and finally catching up with Rocket could only stare at the sight in front of them when they reached the end of the stairs. "The frack you're all staring at. Haven't you seen-?" Captain Jcaan growled pushing past his men blocking the stairs and stopped dead in his tracks. The carpool some sixty feet from the stairs was the sight of an absolute carnage. Blood and guts lay strewn everywhere including the ceiling. Near a door to subbasement a man lay at his back, bleeding and quite possibly dying while at the centre of the mess a blood soaked furry creature was cradling the man's head and weeping in a state of shock. Another man lay nearby and was by all likelihood very ,very dead because it wasn't bloody likely that you were going survive from getting eviscerated by being slashed open from neck to groins with a plasma knife. Jcaan swears -audibly and most uncharacteristically.

"The frack are you standing about? Go fetch to the medic his supplies and I mean NOW! The rest of you- Find that Mother Krutacking Skrull already so we can frackin' leave!" He turns at his men who blink and salute before running to do as told.

* * *

Medical Sergeant Dibar took careful strides towards his superior. The Raccoonoid was still weeping and cradling Star-lord's head in his lap while futilely trying to stem the blood flowing out of his chest with rags he'd ripped from gods only knew where, though he wasn't weeping quite as loudly as mere moments before. Dibar tsk'd mentally at the insanitary cloth and infection risk they made but said nothing of it, placing his palm very carefully on the furry commanders shoulder. Predictably the Raccoonoid hissed angrily and slashed at the offending hand with his claws though missing it since Dibar had expected the reaction and quickly pulled his hand back. "Sir, you really need to let go and step aside so I can patch him up." He said trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

"No! I ain't leaving him!" Rocket growls almost hysterically and keeps muttering how it's all going to be okay to Peter's ear.

"Sir, please!" Dibar tries with more force but Rocket only tightens his protective hold on his friend and hisses -actually _hisses_ at the medic who blinks momentarily at a loss of how to react, before sighing exasperatedly and hitting the Raccoonoid on the neck with a tranquilizer shot pen taken from his medical bag. Grand Admiral Rocket gets a momentarily confused look on his face, all hair standing up at his neck at the touch of the pen against his skin before sagging forward atop his fallen friend.

"Lay the admiral down on an upright sitting position, he'll be out of the tranq soon." Dibar shrugs to the other troopers questioning looks, carefully lifting his sedated superior away from the top of his patient and hands him over to their care before getting to work on saving Star-lord.

He slips the EA-scanner bracelet on the man's exposed arm and turns him carefully sideways and finally onto his belly to inspect the in-going wounds at his back before using Rocket's discarded plasma knife to cut open Peter's jacket and other garments to fully reveal the three nasty plasma round wounds nicely grouped within two to three inches apart, that went right through his body from back to front. It was pretty bad but if he could get him stable and to hospital in time he should survive, since the man still had a weak pulse and reasonably good blood chemistry values according to the EA scanner. He noted this with satisfaction while doing what he could with his limited professional EA capacity and supplies, patching the man up with what they had as best as he could. Smart wound foam would block the bleeding, self-adhesive patches would keep infections and dirt out of the wounds and general plasma bags helped in keeping the systolic shock at bay at least for now but it was impossible to know without proper full body medical scan just how badly Star-lord's inner organs had been damaged and if he was bleeding heavy internally... they would have almost nothing to reduce the internal bleeding from draining onto his inner body cavities anyway so it was just another problem he'd have to work with and hope for the best. Lastly a bunch of general analgesic medical patches dotted his arm to keep him immobile and painless as possible.

"Get him back to the ship. He needs hospitalization so try not bang or jostle him up while you move him." Dibar grimaces watching Peter being loaded onto makeshift stretchers and carried upstairs.

"Think he'll survive?" Jcaan asks quietly from the medic.

"Pulse was stabilizing once I gave him plasma and oxygen saturation hadn't crashed... yet." The medic states more calmly than he felt.

"So fifty-fifty he'll make it through?" Jcaan muses with some concern. He'd started to like the Half-Terran and would be as saddened as the next man if he'd die on his wounds despite Dibar's efforts.

"Depends more on how long it takes us to get him to hospital or proper sick bay. He can probably hang on for another hour or maybe two at most, wounded like that. There's no telling how badly he might be bleeding internally without a body scanner." The medic notes shaking his head. The sudden voice from the corner makes both men to turn their attention on the furry Admiral slowly coming back to his senses.

"You mother krutacks... You drugged me." Rocket moaned slightly dazed and shook his head crouching at the floor next to a wall corner where he was slowly recovering from the tranq pen.

"Yes, sir. You were hysterical and needed to calm down asap." Dibar admits with an acknowledging nod.

"I get that, I really do. How's Peter, is he...?" Rocket asks not quite able to finish the sentence because of emotions it brought up.

"His alive but in a bad state. I did what I could for him to buy him some time to reach the hospital."

"I know you did Sergeant, if he dies it won't be your fault by any stretch. Now how's the search for our Skrull? We're still on a clock here." Rocket asks making a face and slowly stands up from the floor before nonchalantly snatching his plasma knife back from Dibar.

"We're still looking but he seems to have vanished. Maybe fled during the shootout" Jcaan says sounding uncertain.

"No, I think his hiding in a panic room. Rich Krutacks nearly always have one in their mansions and a paranoid Skrull like Lysis would have built a one if he hadn't had it already. Usually the entry is concealed in some manner and is often close to master bed rooms or private quarters in case of someone surprising you at night when you're sleeping." Rocket counters taking a few tools and his small handheld scanner from his belt pockets, tinkering momentarily with the scanner. "That should do it." Rocket notes waving the scanner in front of him to test his modification.

"Do what, Sir?" Jcaan asks.

"Most modern cloaking and holographic systems use modified tachyon fields in some form or another. I recalibrated this engine performance scanner to now detect mostly Tachyons." Rocket explains in rather matter of fact manner.

* * *

"This is it? I don't see it." jcaan mutters staring and caressing at the solid wall with his palm at the second story living room which Rocket's scanner had pointed out as the largest source of Tachyon emission inside the premises.

"That's the point. There's a hidden door here which is protected by a localized ionic force field which's particle emissions are in turn hidden by the tachyon field which also masks the entry but I know how to bypass these things. Just because I can't see something doesn't mean I don't understand the flark out of it..." Rocket says baring his teeth in predatory fashion and gets to work. First by feeling around the almost undetectable edges of the tachyon field with his super-sensitive Raccoonoid fingertips to accurately determine the size and shape of the field. He then takes a packet of something that looks like grey polymer clay from his pockets and applies the 'clay' as long narrow strips, placing it exactly around the edges of the field he had been feeling around and evenly spaces several matchstick sized pins on the mass.

"Wait isn't that-?" Jcaan comments consternated when the solution apparently wasn't some highly confusing techno gizmo but a good chunk of polymeric explosive instead.

"Yeah, well we don't have the time to be 'nice' so I'm going to remodel the flark out of this room with some good old fashioned Unitex-8 to get into that safe room."

Rocket comments sneering at the word 'safe room' and leads Jcaan and the men accompanying them out of the room before pushing a button on a remote detonator. A loud boom echoes through the building with thick cloud of dust billowing out of the room. Rocket and his Xarthian cohorts step back inside fanning away the dust. Revealing the field keeping the door sealed to be perfectly intact but the wall structure about a meter around it's sides was just... gone. A very concerned looking man in perhaps his late fifties was doing his best to imitate the furniture inside the vault when the group walked inside past the now useless door.

"Erdugan Lysis, I presume?" Rocket asks almost rhetorically from the middle aged man and steps forward with his guns raised and ready to shoot if the man would so much as twitch suspiciously.

They all froze in their tracks by the sudden sounds of loud sirens coming from the yard. Lysis smiles evilly and Jcaan turns on his heels, running to look through a broken window at the other side of the adjacent room to witness at least a dozen police vehicles arriving at the yard and some two dozen heavily armed officers arresting their 'boys' who fortunately had the brains to not offer resistance upon being seized and detentioned.

"Aww crap it's the fuzz, isn't it?" Rocket sighs in defeat ears flat against his skull.

 


	21. Once and future Grand admiral

## Once and future Grand admiral

## Ch 20

 

 

"Fuzz? Oh you mean the police, yes I'd say they'll be here in about ten minutes or less." Jcaan says surprisingly calm, turning to regard his agitated superior.

"Trust me, I've got plan, but right now I need you to help me barricade the door. It should buy us some time." Rocket says starting to drag furniture to block the door.

"Just give up Raccoon. There's no place to hide." Lysis grins emboldened by the arrival of the police forces.

*thunk* A piece of mortar from Rocket clocks him out, hitting at his temples.

"Right on the money." Rocket mutters dropping the second piece since the first one did its job.

"His right, though. There's no good place to hide here." Jcaan notes looking around the two rooms of which neither had any non obvious place to hide, after dragging the large sofa in place for the barricade.

"I know. Except hiding in plain sight. Now firstly; you and boys are going to stay over there and start shooting through the windows, then the door and do all kinds of crap that desperate people do, negotiations, surrendering deals... anything to stall them to buy me more time. Just don't actually hit any of those coppers. Meanwhile I'm going to rig this force field to an extent where it will cover both me and that krutacking Skrull. If we give him to cops we can kiss to him, our freedom and my grand admiralty good buy. "

"Understood, sir." Jcaan acknowledges sternly.

"And be sure to tell our boys that whatever they do, they'll need to keep their yaps shut when being questioned about what they were doing here or who hired them, while I do my best to arrange you all out on the premises of you being hired guns. The Intergalactic mercenary broker's-act and Spartax & Nova self-criminalization clauses should technically cover this and let you off the hook with just hefty fines if everyone knows to keep their cool." Rocket continues and removes the back panel of the saferoom's door with his tools, examining the exposed wiring thoughtfully.

"All right, sir. How much time do you think you'll need?" Jcaan asks with a nod.

"Fifteen minutes should be enough." Rocket hazards snatching some loose wires from the floor before starting to tinker with the saferoom door's force field mechanism.

* * *

Field commander Peace officer J'herek of the thirteenth precinct, felt mild annoyance from both the work he'd have to go through and from the incoming headache it would bring when he rifled over booking and preliminary hearing reports about the mercenaries arrested for the Manor shootout near Rongaan. Why did it always had to be on his watch? Last week it was some crazy Rayjacks robbing a liquor store and taking the shoppers as hostages for 12hours. This week a never heard of mercenary group from Xarth-3 calling themselves 'The Companions of Xarth'... Sure, mercenary companies and outfits came and went and you couldn't be expected to keep the track of them all, but damn these guys sure took the cake in his opinion. First by ~~robbing~~ seizing illegally (since nothing was actually stolen, apparently) a local nightclub at Panophlan. They then had questioned the owner -Spiggs for information about Mr. Lysis, who was his business associate and also known philanthropist, which meant little to J'herek who knew that many mobsters were avid benefactors to gain better rep in the public eye. After which the group had stolen an almost worthless piece of a junk of a spacecraft from heavily guarded spaceport's impound strip to use it to batter in the gates of Mr Lysis's mansion and interestingly enough everyone wwhom the group had molested, claimed that the ringleader was a member of an alien species called Raccoonoid, one of the many member species that formed the Free colony alliance. Where ever the hell that person was now, he had no idea. He did put out an APV anyway though they all looked the same to him and while he'd never seen a one in person he was also fairly sure there weren't more than one at the planet right now, especially with something as distinct as metal plates along the muzzle and cheekbones. Metal inserts on a Raccoonoid's face... something about that ticked his memory but he soon dismissed it, it would come to him eventually. The officers still hadn't been able to reach Mr Lysis and this had him start to fear the worst.

Then there was Peter 'Star-lord' Quill. A man of Terran/Spartoi heritage and the former leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy and the former crown prince of Spartax - a rather notorious group of war heroes, vigilantes & do-gooders for hire. A bunch of misfits, renegades and mercenaries if you asked J'herek's opinion and if Star-lord was here then there was a good chance that the other Guardians would be somehow involved as well. The hybrid had been Heavily injured during the shootout at the manor but was apparently making a good recovery. The head doctor had mumbled something about hybrid vitality, which was something which didn't mean much to him though the doctor in charge of Star-lord's recovery had been notably exited. What exited J'herek was that he might have to wait only days instead weeks before being able to question the man properly. Suddenly it hit him, he was so sure he knew who that Raccoonoid was that he almost raced for the nearest Gal-net census computer to type in the search parameters. The machine searched for a few moments before spewing out its results and there it was; short foreign news stories and articles from some five-six years ago and some more recent ones, mostly pertaining about the on-going recovery of the Grand Admiral of Xarth and how new ways of remodeling facial structures had been devised to restore the facial features unique to his species after a terrible injury he'd sustained at the battle of Tanhauser Nebula. Facial scars, metal plates on cheeks... That was him alright. -The Grand Admiral of Xarth. But why? Why was he here with these self-proclaimed mercenaries and more importantly what was it about Lysis that a representative of the highest military command of Xarth would be present in person to apprehend him? Without any official declaration, he might have add.

He realized there was a lot more going on under the surface than met the eye and his long career at the force only confirmed it. He was suddenly sure that if his department would screw something up while investigating this case, it could all blow up exponentially and turn this seemingly simple case of mercenary activity into a gigantic political shit storm spanning half the Galaxy and he would be standing right in-front of the fan. It was almost for the best that all the suspects had shut like a clams when being questioned and hopefully soon they'd simply walk since there was nothing solid for the prosecutors to 'grasp' onto and press charges, which some hotshot lawyer could point out any time now -he was almost hoping for it. Only charges they could pin that would stick on the perps at court would be imposing as Nova cops, 'mercenary activity' and possibly grievous bodily harm and that last one wasn't even an actual criminal charge worth the court time per se as any killing done could be turned into justified by claiming it as self-defence since it was still unclear who had started the firefight at the mansion.

New reports indicating a confirmation for the Procyonian being the actual leader for the mercenaries instead of the Xarthian who called himself De'n Jcaan- assuming that was his actual name, made him somewhat mollified but also more worried. Various evidence verified the claims made by Spiggs, his staff and from what little Lysis' people knew, -some samples of coarse speckled hair had been collected from the crime scenes along with the most peculiar finger prints and also the way some of those mercs spoke off their mouths when they believed they weren't being listened, proved revealing. Since Mr. Lysis was still missing; he wasn't there to press any charges on the damage done to his property and Mr. Spiggs -the man owning the nightclub, wasn't interested in pressing charges for some odd reason and the owner of the stolen ship was in fact a repo company, who were more than happy to get rid of their hard to liquidate ship and to be able to claim the insurance which was probably bigger than the ships actual real worth when sold. Oh great Manan, how he hated his job sometimes but these little victories made it bearable and with any luck someone would soon blessedly walk in through that door and take these people out of his hands before any of this could leak to the press and cause the political shit storm he so feared was coming.

Long experience at the force was quite useful in less obvious ways as well. It allowed him the foreknowledge that consequences and backlashes regarding certain procedural practices was wholly dependent in their effects to those above him. The more the problem would hurt those in power the more they'd be _willing to overlook_ as long as the _problem went away_ , preferably quietly and surprisingly often also permanently. Nova corps and those 'rosy eyed liberals' at the opposition called it corruption, in his opinion it was more about old friends doing favors to one another; direct compensations almost never changed hands between them.

* * *

Rocket found it actually difficult to recall a moment the last time he'd been as nervous as now when at least twenty coppers were walking in and out of the rooms, right past by the tachyon field he'd hastily modified to hide him and unconscious Lysis. he'd piled a small wall of ruble around them so that anyone bumbling too close would still feel something instead of just air but soon the CSI-unit would bring in better gear -like life sign readers or sniffers and he'd be toast. Tachyon field alone did nothing but mask them from sight. Protection from other methods of detection besides sight would have required a secondary field and he hadn't had the time to rig that up.

He lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when the cops finally leave the room to congregate outside at the mansion yard. Probably to relinquish the scene for the actual investigators. Whatever the case it was his queue to bug out.

He deactivated the shield hastily by yanking at the wires he'd rigged up. A competent CSI-team would see the tamper and jury-rigs but there was no time to clean his tracks thoroughly. Rocket grunted and groaned softly under the weight of the Skrull, hoisting him on his shoulders and silently thanked the Great Maker that he was vastly stronger than most any Raccoonoid while strained to shuffle out of the room towards the service elevator down at the hall as quietly as raccoonily possible. The service elevator car was quite small, not much bigger than two big boxes of fruits or Rocket standing up slightly hunched but since the Skrull was unconscious he couldn't complain about being almost literally shoehorned and folded-up thrice to fit into the car with a Raccoonoid squeezed on top of him. Well it wasn't Rocket's fault that it was meant for laundry-, cleaning- and food carts instead of big people.

Rocket almost had a heart attack when he saw a peace officer's back come to view when the car silently glided down and made a soft ding-sound announcing its arrival to first floor, though Rocket recovered quickly and wasted no time in knocking the officer in the head with his pistol but and stealing his comm unit before pulling the Skrull out and stuffing the fuzzed out fuzz in to the car before sending it back up. He listened for the reports about the where the patrols were momentarily before throwing the unit way.

He then placed the Skrull back on his shoulders and headed for the nearest windows looking out to the backyard of the mansion, figuring from the reports that the side of the mansion that saw virtually no fighting would have the least people around to gather evidence or just plain procrastinating in hopes of being present when something 'cool' was found.

Rocket opened the window and pulled Lysis through after him and closed the window to cover his tracks. It was already getting nicely dark outside. Cyris II had blessedly short daylight time; only about 10h or so on the average. This made sneaking out of the mansion and scaling over the walls with his 'booty' much easier than it otherwise would have been and since the power was still out the police had had to bring their own lights, which were insufficient to illuminate the whole yard and didn't reach the walls at all.

Rocket breaths heavily in relief, wiping his lathered forehead with his arm. The tall grass just beyond the wall was invitingly soft and he could have fallen asleep right there but there was still so much to do. Rocket picked himself up with a tired groan and started walking, dragging the still blessedly unconscious Skrull after him from his coat collar. Now that he was actually having the luxury of allowing himself thinking about it; the Skrull had been awfully quiet for many hours, which made Rocket hope he hadn't accidentally 'broken' something in the guy by hitting him on the head with that brick.

* * *

Rocket's initial relief when Lysis had started to show signs of waking up, was waning rapidly with the Skrull's drudgingly monotonous whining, starting the moment the man woke up fully. To Rocket's biggest annoyance he knew perfectly well that Rocket needed him alive. Rocket's only joy was that he no longer had to drag or carry him. Which was probably the main factor behind Rocket's decision to not shoot off his kneecaps just to prove it to the obnoxious Skrull, that he could interrogate him just fine without legs.

Rocket was just about to point this fact to his unappealing and unwitting companion when he spotted something on the horizon. A link mast. He could already see it in his mind how to rig it up to juice his comm unit and call for Milano which should still be waiting for their signal, outside solar system.

"Stay!" Rocket grumbles shackling the Skrull with automatic handcuffs onto a post at the base of the mast.

"The frakk you think I am, a pet?" Lysis spits.

"Well, yeah among other things. It's not like you can't take the form. Won't make a difference though, those cuffs are designed to hold even Skrulls." Rocket retorts craning his neck upwards while studying the mast and missing the poisonous glare he got from Lysis in return.

* * *

He ended the call with the Milano and started collecting his things and paused, his tools in hand, as the moon begun to rise. It was a beautiful amber moon and he stopped to just watch it rise and wash the landscape with its golden glow. A bright comet trail shot across the sky above it and it all made him think of his friends and home. He missed Nidnene, his kids, Peter, Groot and a lot of things at that moment but not Procyon, that planet had never felt like home to him but she had never felt home anywhere else except when flying in space or cruising planetside with him during a full moon just like this one. And so they had made an uneasy compromise of rotating between their respective homes. _Aww Krutack, I'm becoming like an old fart._ Rocket sighs deeply and starts climbing down absently wondering whether the burst of light he had seen was a meteorite or a ship.

"It will take about an hour or so for us to be picked up. Plenty of time for us to have some real bleeding heart to heart crap." Rocket declares pulling out his Plasma knife in front of Lysis who, to his credit, was pretty quick to figure from where the wind was blowing...

* * *

Rocket drops the plasma knife and steps away from the shuddering form of Lysis, hearing the dull roar of an incoming spacecraft's engines from a distance. With his enhanced hearing this meant it was still at least fifteen minutes away. He hadn't lied when he told Peter he could force even the most fanatical Skrull into talking and Lysis was actually fairly moderate individual as far as those shape shifting religious zealots went. Some of what he had learned from Lysis, he now almost wished that he hadn't and hated himself for what he had had to do to get it, well almost. It was very hard to feel sympathy towards someone who by all appearances had little qualms with experimenting on sentient life forms as eagerly as non sentients. Too bad he waas going to need this fratack alive.

"Here, wipe your face clean and stop that whining. It's getting on my nerves." He growls in annoyance, throwing a cleaning rag for the man to wipe his face a little. Lysis looks at him cautiously but stops weeping and cleans his face from snot and tears. Lysis might be subdued for now but Rocket held no illusions about the Skrull and knew he would kill him in a heartbeat and now, after the interrogation, even more certainly than before.

* * *

Rocket feels a wave of relief wash over him when the Milano finally arrives, landing a bit roughly about a hundred yards away from the relay station. Maker's mercy, they were finally here: Xaanth, Xerth, Rodas, Ebiex, Pfiri, Ord, X'berith and most of all Groot. He felt tired and his right side hurt, the hastily bandaged wound had probably reopened. It felt so good to just sit there on the grass and lay still.

"I am Groot!" _Rocket, Thank goodness you're alright_!" The tree man bellows rushing to lift and grab Rocket into a tight hug as soon as the hatch opens.

"Ughh my ribs! Careful you dumb tree." Rocket squeaks at the sudden pressure on his wounded side.

"I am Groot?" _You're wounded, is it bad, did I hurt you?"_ Groot asks worriedly.

"And just what the frakk happened to him?" X'berith asks loudly pointing at Lysis, who had for some reason opted to revert into his natural green skinned Skrull-form, just as Rocket was about to answer Groot who puts him down almost hastily with apologetic look on his face.

"He spilt the beans, that's all you need to know." Rocket snaps.

"But sir, this looks like torture. Surely you are aware of the strictures and policies on holding prisoners." X'berith splutters slightly confused.

Rocket glared at him for a moment and then recalled that X'berith, despite being senior in rank to Dibar actually had far less field experience. He was what many older soldiers derisively called as 'book warriors'. One of those who'd risen in ranks through officer schooling and desk jobs rather than by being promoted through service and field experience.

"Just patch him up and make sure those shackles stay on First Sergeant, and when you're done I could use some patching up as well if it isn't too much for your sensibility." Rocket orders rather caustic before trudging towards the Milano though Groot scoops him up to his shoulders at half-way and carries him the rest of the way over to the sickbay despite Rocket's half-hearted protests .

* * *

"Would you mind. It's not a flarkin' slab of meat you're parsing together!" Rocket spits sitting at the edge of the examination table at the med bay when X'berith's wound stapler bites a bit too dip into his flesh.

"Yes sir, you're not a slab of meat but your squirming makes it hard to hold the edges together properly." X'berith acknowledges plaintively.

"Just get it done. I hate sickbays and hospitals enough as it is." Rocket mutters lifting his arm a bit more to give X'berith better view on the long Laser burnt gash at his side.

"Well sir, this would be faster if you would have removed all your garments as suggested."

"And I said no and no means no." Rocket grumbles angrily. He'd reluctantly agreed to have the upper part of his unitard suit to be cut open up to the arm pit from the wounded side but remained adamant that the rest would stay on. X'berith nods spraying some general disinfect to the wounds and wiping the stitching clean with it before applying some kind of pungent smelling topical wound ointment and self-adhesive bandages to cover the stitches and burns.

Rocket leaves the sickbay as soon as X'berith says his done, almost running by the end to get into his room to change out of his torn suit. Rocket wasn't really worried about the condition of his suit, which were easy to make with the 3D-printing machine he'd installed on the ship ages ago, but what his suit covered. He removed the jacket and undershirt halves first, being mindful of the fresh stitching, throwing the ruined garments away into corner and kicks of his boots off before squirming out of the pants part. A noise by the door stopped his frantic change of clothing. "I am Groot?" _Do you mind if I come in Rocket?_

"Sure, come on in. It ain't locked." Rocket answers automatically while focused on rummaging through his wardrobe his back facing the door. The complacency from having spent decades with an asexual tree made him overlook it that though Groot's presence was about as obtrusive as your average houseplant when it came to being nude with him at the same room, he still possessed eyes... There was a small pregnant pause from the tree man when he steps in and then a louder gasp before even louder "I am Groot!" _What the hell Rocket!_

Rocket froze in the middle of pulling a new pair of pants on and turned around, realizing his mistake. His collarbones; where the cybernetics used to poke out through the skin and the big hairless spot at his back with those calibration sockets and the direct-to-central nerves-data port at his spine, had all been fixed by E.V.A along with everything else excepting his facial scars *****. The replacement cybernetics were far more technologically sophisticated and perfectly moulded for his anatomy making them almost impossible to see or even feel through the thick fur that now covered the once bald and scarred patches. And Groot sure as day didn't miss the omission of those little anatomical details, having seen them almost daily for more than fifty years.

"I am GRrr-OOT!" _What have you done to my friend you imposter!_ He roars vines extending to engulf the poor creature desperately back pedalling to get away from the reach of the raging tree monster. A futile effort in the small space that was their room aboard the Milano ******. Rocket scrambled backwards, tumbling down on his knees when he tripped on something and realized it was his ion cannon. He grabbed the gun and cocked it, servos whirring, before somersaulting away from Groot's Vines in one sinuous move and pointed the barrel at Groot.

"I don't wanna use this on you bud, but I will if I have to! So back off or eat plasma." Rocket gasps scrambling to stand up against the farthest wall as the barrel of the oversized gun finishes extending to its full length. Groot obeys for now at least; to Rocket's relief and perhaps even slight amazement, though some of it may have been for the fact that Rocket's massive modified ion cannon could easily punch a hole through Milano's Bulkhead and Groot both with just one shot, when used with full power and while he -Groot, could easily survive in the vacuum of space his friends at the ship couldn't. Nor was Groot all that keen with the idea of getting shot in the face by one of Rocket's most powerful weapons even though he would easily survive several hits. He may have been made of wood-like body tissue but he still hurt like any other living being. He'd need to be smart here as it seemed like this clone/simulacrum/imposter had much the same physical abilities as his friend.

He noticed the silvery band at the not-Rocket's wrist as something he'd never seen on Rocket. The Rocket that he knew had always had a strong aversion to wearing jewellery though he loved to steal and fondle them. It could be important. Grabbing it could work as a distraction to get the gun away if nothing else, Groot thought as he snaked a thin vine around the band faster than a striking cobra and yanked hard. The results were not in the slightest in-line with what he had assumed that was going to happen.

"Groot! Don't touch that bracelet -AIEEee!" the not-Rocket screams and everything seems to explode into brilliant white and then nothingness.

**-Flicker-**

 

"Ohh frakk!, ohh frakk! C'mon Groot buddy! Please wake up! I'm sorry I lied and I said I'd shoot you, I'm sorry, just wake up buddy. Please wake up!" A familiar male voice was muttering to his ear and almost crying while doing it. Groot opened his eyes slowly and rose to sitting position just as slowly in order to avoid dropping the obviously distressed raccoonoid perched precariously on his shoulder and chest while clinging to the sides of his head with his tiny paws.

"I am Groot?" _What is this place. How did we get here?"_ He asks taking stock of their surreal surroundings. though he wasn't entirely sure if it was a physical place in the actual sense of the word. It was completely and utterly featureless with literally nothing but pure all-colored landscape or to put it in the language the fleshly beings with their inability to see ALL spectrums of light, used -pure whiteness. Only variation in colors in this strange quasi dimension were coming from him and very much naked not-Rocket. Interestingly enough neither of them were casting a shadow. It was the same ambient light all around them.

"I have a theory based on the reaction your touch had on my quantum leafing-bracelet." Not-Rocket postulated and Groot could feel the small mammal's heartbeat slow down as he was calming now that Groot was awake.

"I am Groot" _I remember something like this being theorized at the coppice school's advanced quasi-dimensional theory-classes when I was young._ Groot admits touching _the ground_ beneath him with his vines to realize that he was by all purposes floating, whether upside or not was irrelevant as there was no horizon or any other fixed points besides the two of them at this plain of nothingness. they might even be sideways in fact. His companion snorted at that line of thought. "What difference does it make? Even if we'd be floating in northwest but northeast axis we'd still be stuck in this Frakk hole of a quasi-dimension."

"I am Groot." _Since we're still going to be stuck here, probably for a long while. You could tell me what did you do with the real Rocket. If you've killed him, I'll let you live and assist you until we're feed from this place..._ Groot offers as a temporary truce. Because if this imposter had in fact harmed his friend in anyway... He really would let him live not a second longer that it would take them to find their way back.

"What do you mean _real_? There's nothing like me except me- Ahh Frakk, You know what? That line feels really hokey once you've been to Procyon even once." Not-Rocket says shaking his head and dry washing his paws in that same cute way as the real Rocke- Groot blinks banishing the thought, no this couldn't be his friend. The Rocket he knew couldn't survive without his cybernetics and this one despite having all the mannerisms and idioms of the real one, seemed to have only the reconstructive facial plating.

"I am Groot." _That Rocket I know, can't survive without his cybernetic alterations anymore and you have none except the facial plates."_ Groot elaborates when his companion gives him a worried look.

"Ohh, okay. Look I still have e'm. It's just that they were... you know sort of upgraded awhile back. Don't hurt none anymore or anything either. Look, just reach out and you can still feel e'm through the skin. not even E.V.A could do much to the fact that all this hardware in me takes a lot of space but at least that annoying servo sound, you could hear whenever I used to move my arms or legs, is finally gone." Rocket explains uncertainly. Groot slowly reaches a vine out to feel the lumps of cybernetics under the mammalian fur & skin, because they still were lumps with a capital-L despite being a lot smaller and inconspicuous than before. Now that Rocket had mentioned it, Groot realized that he'd become really used to hearing those very low whirring sounds which was one of the reasons why something had seemed so off with Rocket ever since they'd found him lying in his vomit at the alley behind the bar back in Xandar. The other being the way Rocket seemed to sit a little more straight than before. Previously his posture had always been a tiny bit hunched forward like old people with bad backs.

"I am Groot" _Really, when? that's not possible. There was no time for such complex operations._ He asks after a moment of silent observing.

"I bet you've no idea how much time can be arranged when you know how, Groot." Rocket counters ruefully.

"I am Groot?" _This is going to be one of those overly complex time travel-things isn't it. How many times have told you that I hate them?"_ Groot sighs sounding incredibly jaded.

"You got that right, buddy." Rocket agrees equally blasé.

"I couldn't tell you for the same reasons but as we're stuck in here I guess it doesn't really matter any more since the Flerken's already out of the bag."

"I am Groot." _Don't you fret for nothing. I'm very good at keeping secrets, Rocket._

"I know buddy, I know." Rocket acknowledges with a small smile.

They just sat there for awhile more looking at the endless nothing. Rocket laying/floating at his back and Groot just staying erect for the lack of anything better to do.

"Aww frakk this. Nobody's gonna save us but us. Hell we're lucky if they'll even realize we're gone before we starve out here. We'll need to figure our own way out." Rocket sighs sitting up and breaking the silence.

"I am Groot?" _You said earlier that you had a theory Rocket?_

"Well, yeah. I think the way you Groots can reshape your body somehow interferes with the Quantum leafing band I have. You know; it made it act weirdly when you touched it back at the ship."

"I am Groot." _It is true that we learn hyper spatial- and quasi dimensional-engineering in order to better control our shape and growth but I'm not really sure how my touch can affect your bracelet._

"I think you're a species always slightly in quantum-stage Groot. I mean nobody's ever really studied how your species can alter their body mass so drastically and so fast without any sever draw backs, because you don't just _stretch_ yourself -you seem to _grow_ and _shrink_ and unless it has something to do with quantum states there's no way you can do it like that without consuming and expelling huge amounts of energy or leaving some kind of waste behind."

"I am Groot." _Ohh, it has been postulated among us but we've always taken it just as granted as you take the fact that you need to eat daily._

"Okay, so this bracelet more or less responds with your thoughts to form the needed quantum leafing effects in response to a specific amplifying infrastructure or equipment, and it's possible that your natural quantum state somehow overrode my mental control by acting as a source emitter to enforce the leafing."

"I am Groot" _Well I was thinking about taking it away from you when I touched it to get you distracted._ Groot agrees starting to understand what Rocket was already suspecting.

"Exactomundo Groot. Just grab my bracer arm like you did at the Milano and picture us back there in your mind... And you know what, if this works. I've got frakk loads of applications in-line for this. Okay, you ready? And by the way as soon as we get back. Pass me the bucket, I'm a gonna need it."

"I am Gro-oot." _Ohh, gods I'd hope not._ Groot sighs pessimistically, remembering all too well how some of Rocket's more harebrained schemes had worked out in the past.

 

**-Flicker-**

"UUUrrghhhh. The bucket Groot! -Oh frakk, oh frakk, flark my life." Rocket groans and mumbles while Groot dutifully holds the waste paper bucket for him to puke into.

"I am Groot?" _You sure you're all right Rocket. Shouldn't I get you at least a glass of water?_

"Just give me my pants and shirt and I'll be right up with you in a minute." Rocket sighs wiping his mouth once the worst retching is over and his stomach stops roiling. Groot leaves and takes the bucket with him to be rinsed clean and Rocket locks the door once his gone to get dressed in private.

"Now, here's the plan. so listen up everybody." Rocket announces standing at the common room table dressed into one of his many sets of casual hoodies and cargo pants instead of one of his more combat practical onesies.

"At this point it should be fairly obvious to peace corps that I've been at the mansion. They wouldn't be much of a coppers if they weren't. Now, I'll be showing myself at some of the less reputable dens to spread the word that I'm looking for people to help me get connected with people who know people to get my friends off the chokey. It should be enough to draw the Peace corps feelers out at which point I'm hoping to be able to negotiate a trade." Rocket explains to a host of disbelievers that were his remaining crew.

"Won't they try to arrest you sir, Or worse; shoot on sight." X'berith asks not fully sold on the plan.

"Possibly, so I won't be going alone. You guys are going to help me snatch one of their undercover and once we do, We'll use him to send a message to their boss man for a discreet meet-up." Rocket counters and takes a long sip from the glass of soda water Groot had provided for him.

* * *

Rocket eye examined the hooded man suspiciously, who was carrying a metal strong box. He'd been shot before at Xandar in an alley just like this and Rocket wasn't keen on repeating the experience. The hooded man parts his rain cloak enough to reveal his pale face and blond hair and some of his weapons of choice, a long knife and a shortened laser carbide. He eyes the Raccoonoid, armed to the teeth, in equal wary. Peacekeeper Officer gear. Rocket noted parting his own cloak to reveal some of his gear with some trepidation and surreptitiously signals with his fingers for Xerth to back off with the stun baton for now. Either the Officer doesn't notice Xerth slipping back into rainy night's shadows or doesn't care which made him either foolishly unwary or very good at his job and Rocket was willing to bet on the latter considering how fast this guy had found him once the 'word' was out.

"You wish to see your men - your friends even, freed. Grand admiral." The man asks in dry voice though It was not really a question.

"Depends..." Rocket replies carefully trying to read the stone-faced Spartoid.

"I ask but a simple price for this. An answer to my question. Why Erdogan Lysis?" Rocket glowers at the man, still trying to piece his motives together, and sighs coming to a decision to be honest before admitting quietly. "His building a Terrigen crystal bomb for the Skrull empire and is in league with domestic terrorism at Xarth-3 and the real Erdogan Lysis has probably been sleeping with snaives for years."

"I've figured as much. Therefore take the crystals, him, your people and go and do not return to Spartoi-Empire and Cyris-II. Ever." The man says nodding in agreement after a fashion. He lays the metal box his carrying on the ground about halfway between them and steps away from it before throwing something tiny to Rocket, who catches it without difficulty.

"What about... Star-lord, is he-- well?" He asks hesitantly.

"Already released from the hospital as we speak and being brought to the landing point with the rest of your men, where your ship has been cloaked and docked. You now have exactly thirty standard minutes to return to your ship and clear the planet's atmosphere Grand Admiral. I urge you to take it."

"Why are you doing this, _Field commander_? You owe us nothing." Rocket asks carefully hazarding his rank, which the man's ever so light twitch confirms. Rocket eyes the small data chip at his palm which he was fairly certain to contain the digital release forms for his friends and access grants to certain property belonging to Lysis in case of overzealous customs agents.

"We'll, let's just say that I enjoy living in this universe more than the next one. You'll figure out the rest soon enough if you're as glarking smart one as they say, aren't you?" The cloaked man pulls the rain hood back over his head, smirking without mirth, before retreating back to the shadows and giving an amused wink at slightly embarrassed Xerth, and Rocket realizes that, yes he indeed does know why. Nor Xarth nor Spartax needed publicity like this and Terrigen bombs really were something that should have never been invented but since when had someone with the moniker Mad in his name ever heeded something like common sense? Certainly not Maximilian the 'Mad'. The number one theoretic and father of most Terrigen technology outside the Kree.

Rocket knew he should cash-in the offered boon now if he knew what was good for him and his boys. Sooner than later the peace corps of Cyris-II would lose their patience with his antics and stop playing nice if he'd try playing with them and staying at planetside when he had been told to leave in 30 in no uncertain terms.

* * *

 

 

>  
> 
> _***** While healing Rocket's facial scars would have been trivial to E.V.A, it would have made Rocket's return very difficult. Such 'fixes' just didn't occur at his native timeline and certainly not in the space of scant few hours. Other consideration was Rocket's mental state. Any direct changes to his face wouldn't have been in the best interest of his mental well-being at the time._
> 
> _****** Even Quill's Room wasn't very big and Rocket had in fact more than once derided his 'captain's quarters' as 'captain's closet' in an attempt to make Peter and the others to see his viewpoint and pool their earnings to shell the money for a bigger and more advanced ship._

 


	22. The king maker

## The king maker

## Ch 21

**Cyanus cluster, Cyris system- planet 2, Alpha-7 quadrant – The old Spartax colonies.**

**Late morning hours**

**4d after the events at Hala – Leaving the system of Cyris-II**

 

 

Cyris-II was no more but a faint blue-green dot and would soon vanish amidst the thousands of other lights in the vastness of gloom that was space but its memory persisted in the form of Star-lord, still in need of intense care and Lysis who was getting on everyone's nerves, Including Groot. While the tree-god was notoriously hard to get riled up the Skrull had apparently honed his verbal stabs into an art on itself. Then there was the matter of Terrigen crystals. They weren't very volatile in their natural, light mauve shaded hexagonal crystalline form but when refined and phased into gaseous state or when used as a catalyst for neutron fusion in bombs it became a whole different story. The gas was able to destroy an entire planets population and a Terrigen enhanced antimatter-bomb was powerful enough to break the very fabric of local space-time like an egg. Rocket felt at lost with what to do with the crystals, on one hand they were an important evidence against Lysis and whoever was behind all this and yet he was honestly afraid of leaving them even to Nova corps care, for few things in the cosmos were as dangerous as the Terrigen crystals in the wrong hands.

"I am Groot" _You could just return them to Inhuman royals, they'd probably even reward you for it._ Groot suggested watching Rocket fondling the box of crystals and staring at space.

"Yeah, I probably should but not yet. We may yet need them." The cyborg raccoonoid sighs clapping the box shut and hops down from the pilot's chair with the box. He hands it to Groot who hides the box inside his body by simply creating a space for it which he then seals shut.

Rocket and Groot descended the ladders down to the cargo hold where most of the soldiers had made their bunks. The general mood was, if not jubilee then very close to it with light banter and cheerful quips filling the air. Rocket was almost sure he could even smell something slightly intoxicating having being consumed... He'd let it slide this time. The men knew they were returning home soon, the hardest part of their mission over and Rocket saw little reason to ruin their moment of fun as long as it didn't get out of hand.

"Attention! commander on deck!" Someone yells and all chatter stops as the men scamper on their feet to stand in attention and Rocket's suspicions were confirmed; somehow they'd managed to find a bundle of Deathsticks and probably Jovian brandy from somewhere while being planetside since neither of those were something that Milano would have had in stock. Peter had always hated the coarse Jovian Brandy and Rocket hated the sharp smell of the burnt deathsticks sticking on just about everything.

"At ease, as you were soldiers. We've eight hours until Xandar so enjoy your free hours. Dismissed." Rocket commands expertly and they return back to what they were doing though less animated than before. "And if you plan to light that Deathstick before I'm gone from the hold, Xerth. I'm going to put you on vacuum toilet duty for a month." He adds pointedly before walking past the men with Groot deeper into the hold, exchanging a nod here and there in return when the men cease their chatter to give him an attentive look as he walks by. Lysis had his own "private bunk" at the farthest corner of the bay away from everyone else where he was laying on his back staring at the ceiling. He rose up to sit at his meager cot when they approached. Rocket ignored Lysis in lieu for examining the roughly 3 by 3 by 2 meter metal cage and force field with his gaze instead, turning his attention to Lysis after finding the cell satisfactory.

"This flimsy cage won't hold me forever." Lysis threatens with a deathly glare.

"It doesn't have to, it just needs to be well enough to keep you inside until Xandar. Enjoy your privacy while it lasts Skrull. In Kyln you'll find none." Rocket replies fairly nonplussed by the flimsy threat. The Skrull glares and finally spits a curse after him, Rocket pointedly ignores both.

* * *

"Leave us." Rocket orders Dibar and X'berit who were watching over the sleeping Star-lord. Peter had awakened briefly earlier but he was still very weak and woke only for a few minutes at a time before slumbering again. The men made snappy salutes before closing the door and leaving Rocket alone with Peter at the sickbay which truth to be told was more like a room than a bay; barely big enough for the medical instruments and one cot slash examination table and one or two persons treating the patient. A small vase of Groot's flowers at the wall shelf helped to alleviate the smell of antiseptics permeating the air.

Rocket had seen Peter wounded many times but never this bad. Somehow his sleeping bare chest form made the man look older or maybe just closer to his true age, the faint grooves on his pale face, whiffs of gray on his brown hair, few wrinkles here and there at his arms. Rocket couldn't decide. He took Peter's callused right palm into his own tiny and equally callused but more hairy hands and massaged the palm gently, being mindful for the canule inserted in the back of Peter's palm. His hands felt strangely warm all things considered. Rocket felt he could have gone lost in memory lane with the grooves and scars his enhanced sense of touch detected in Peter's bared arms and palms. He could easily recall the instances where most of those scars had been received.

"I wonder..." Rocket sighs looking at a particular faded but still visible crescent shaped scar at the back of Peter's left palm, formed from a line of small dots of scar tissue. Rocket knew without turning the palm that there would be a near equal shape at the back of the palm.

"Wonder what?" Star-lord mumbles weakly from behind the oxygen mask. Rocket lifted it carefully to let him speak better. "Oh don't stop the massage Rocky, it feels... nice." The man mutters with a faint smile.

"-If you even remember how you got even the half of these scars." Rocket mutters, absently tracing the myriad scars on Peters hands and chest with his fingertip vibrissae.

"Which ones Rocky? I've got way too many to count by now, even chicks stopped digging them after a certain point." Peter drones coughing up a weak laugh. He'd always been on the ticklish side and the gentle caress of Rocket's fingertip vibrissae were probably giving the man laughing fits. So he stops it and thinks of what to say next.

"I still feel bad for being the cause to some of them and especially about giving that crescent shaped one in your left palm and it's been almost thirty years since-" Rocket starts but stops when he notices Peter having fallen asleep again. "-never mind, you've forgiven it long ago anyway." He sighs and carefully places the mask back to Peter's face and pulls the fallen sheet higher to cover his chest more. His silent contemplation on their complicated relationship is being brought to an end by the sounds of someone approaching the med bay. The unique sound of footfalls each individual had informed it was Jcaan, making Rocket readjusts for a more upright posture from his slumped position at the stool. He patiently waits for the man to shuffle and collect his thoughts outside the closed door before giving his affirmative for the man to enter.

"You wished to speak with me, sir?" The Xarthian asked glancing meaningfully at the sleeping Star-lord.

"I did. Come walk with me." Rocket beckoned hopping down from the stool. Jcaan nodded following him out for a walk though truth to be told there wasn't really that much to walk about in the three decks that composed the Milano's habitable space without going in circles. Rocket didn't seem to care about that little 'snag' starting to discuss about his plans almost immediately. Jcaan mostly nods though his eyebrows climb slightly when Rocket mentions Groot and his plans of using him to defend his post.

"It certainly is an unconventional approach they won't be excepting sir, but with all honesty I can't see it working." He admits in slight disbelief.

"Don't you worry about that, just be ready if things get crazy at Xandar. I for one am going to be very disappointed if there's no shoot-out at the end of this galactic flarkin' road trip we've been having for the past two weeks." Rocket reassures his captain stopping at the cockpit stairs.

"I hope your plan works sir. The space navy wouldn't be the same without you."

"Oh, I'll be around no matter what." Rocket promises slyly before climbing up to cockpit. Jcaan waited for a moment at the foot of the stairs in case his superior had anything else to say before walking down to the cargo hold to see what his men were up to. They had only 6h left until Xandar and by the sounds of it the boys were just about to advance their merriment from joyous to downright rowdy.

* * *

Grand Admiral Rocket cranes his neck upwards, eyeing critically at his escort company lined up against the hangar wall with Groot and Captain Jcaan hovering at his side, before stopping near the end of the line next to withered form of Second ensign Xan.

Second ensign Xan hadn’t been fully sure of what to expect before being invited to a drinking game for the first time by his fellow squad members, but he certainly hadn’t expected such a cranky response in the form of splitting headache with a deathly pallor emanating from his face and now the Grand admiral was standing in front of him in his full combat gear minus the helmet –much like the first time Xan had met his alien commander- in-chief in person at Xarth-3. Though this time the Raccoonoid wasn't cursing or looking ready to bite something. In fact he looked almost amused. Only solace Xan felt was that he wasn't the only one looking a little woozy.

"Well boy, you reap what you sow. Try not puke at the parade, it's disgusting to clean from your boots after." The Grand admiral reminds the young ensign with almost fatherly pride which makes Xan feel a little bit better though it does little to blunt the ice pick piercing through his skull, that was his headache.

* * *

 

Centurion Dey looked above his head and smiled when the formation of star fighters passed high overhead their elevated VIP-loge. He quickly suppressed a smile creeping on his face. It wasn't quite proper to smile like that as an official of the awarding ceremony parade but this really was an almost perfect day for a parade in every way imaginable. They had several delegates and dignitaries from other galactic realms attending, seated in their respective loges, beautiful calm, sunny weather and people who actually deserved their honoraries unlike in some previous years when they'd had to give the awards out just because the Nova Corp rules demanded a yearly awarding ceremony. Yes, a very good day indeed. His short honorary companion, an armored raccoonoid, sitting on a raised seat next to him and the gigantic tree-like friend/bodyguard standing just behind the raccoonoids chair, didn't seem quite as pleased as Dey and he was pretty sure he knew why.

"Cheer up Admiral, I'm sure he'll be as good as new. We have many of the best hospitals and medical professionals in the Galaxy at Nova corps call and they've all been tasked to look after him, he'll be fine. Trust me." He tries to cheer up the Raccoonoid, squeezing his longtime associates armored shoulder in a friendly manner. Rocket glares at the touch hard enough to make Dey remove his palm almost hastily.

"Sorry, it's a habit." He mutters apologetically.

"I know, it's... well you know how I feel about that kind of touchy-feely crap." Rocket replies evasively and Dey nods decidedly keeping his hands to himself. He turns his attention back to the parade as the pilots above are commencing another roaring fly-by.

"Hmm... The tail engine on number three of the left-wing squadron is a bit off-synch." Rocket mumbles absently. Dey frowns, curiously following the Raccoonoid's gaze to the sky.

"Pardon, don't see it?" Dey asks trying to catch what Rocket had claimed to notice. Rocket blinks momentarily before replying.

"You can't really see it. I've a near perfect tonal ear besides near perfect memory recall as you know. Anyway it's not really my business to tell Nova corps how to maintain your ships but since you asked; the engine pitch wasn't even when they increased to quarter burn."

"I'll let the ground crew know." Dey nods taking a hold of his squad com. He had no reason to doubt Rocket's assessments on pretty much anything mechanical. Rocket just shrugs and then jumps up as if bitten when Groot behind him suddenly roars in surprise. A sizable bullet hole had appeared right next to Rocket's shoulder on the chair back and perhaps three seconds later a faint crack could be heard. Rocket stares at Groot, Groot stares at the hole, the size of a grown man's fist, in his own thigh and Dey stares at them both before all three hit the deck as the whole parade area below them mimics this.

"Oo-kay, now what the flark was that? and don't you fracking' say gunshot, Dey." Rocket hisses in adrenaline induced anxiety, laying flat on his belly while Dey tries to peek out through a crevice from behind the loge's parapet to avoid being a clean target for the possible snipers.

"I've no idea, the area was supposed to be cleared and screened for three city blocks in all directions!" Dey grunts in anger and starts to shout into his comm radio while curiously well-ordered panic had gripped the parade at the street below and his personal guard did their best to make sure no one could approach the loge while the team medics were already making a running crouch towards the stairs at the back of the loge. Rocket quickly signaled at them that they were fine.

"I am Groot?" _Besides obvious assassination attempt, it also seems to have been foiled by someone._

"Say what, How do you know?" Rocket asks mildly confused as another bullet is fired, also completely missing its mark before shattering on one of the concrete columns upon which the boxes were built on.

"I am Groot..." _The bullet in my thigh is a smart bullet and as its still intact. It's trying to lodge free and continue into its original target as we speak... and you know as well as I that they never miss unless left on their own after being fired._

Rocket blinks and stares at Groot for a moment and nudges Dey by the sleeve to get his attention. "Hey Dey we've got a problem. That first smart bullet fired; in Groot's thigh, it's still intact... So you better get that bomb-squad here on the double or one more of us is getting perforated once it gets loose again."

"The smart- what..? Oh crud" Dey sighs in a world-weary tone of a seasoned veteran officer.

* * *

 

 

**Three click away from the parade**

**A top the planetary broadcast tower.**

 

"Well, it seems like we're back in schedule Drax." Gamora comments wiping her sword clean on the clothes of the two now dead would-be snipers. She notes how their bodies don't begin to fade away which means they're from local time-loop, in other words a bunch of hired stooges.

The Tattooed brute glances at the small device attached to his wrist and notifies her with quick a nod. "The chronolabe agrees with your assessment Gamora.

"I wish we wouldn't have to leave just yet." The green-skinned assassin sighs looking at the splendid view.

"Think they'll try again?" Drax asks also noticing what Gamora already had about the bodies.

"No, I mean I doubt it but this is our native timeline after all... We had -have friends here still." she sighs sheathing her sword.

"Understandable but also needlessly sentimental. Let us go before we're discovered." The tattooed brute barks, forcefully sheathing his blades to ride at his hip. Gamora gives one more glance at the scenery before disintegrating the bodies by spraying them and their general area with a anti-biochemical material disintegrator agent .

**_-Flicker-_ **

* * *

 

It took about ten minutes for the security forces to triangulate, secure and search the area around the building from which the shots had been fired and another ten to convince them that it was fine for Rocket to see the corpses of the assumed culprits with Dey, bring them protective suits to make sure they're not leaving their traces on the site and finally get to the roof terrace via express elevator and access hatch. The roof top terrace was already teeming with all kinds of forensic people, photographers, technicians and investigators though they all looked rather disappointed under their protective masks and suits for some reason.

"Well what's wrong now? somebody forgot to bring your gear up and you're debating who gets to go get it or what?" Rocket huffs noticing the glum atmosphere.

"Someone has used some kind of material disintegrator agent here and all organic residues are gone and what's left has amalgamated into that horrid sludge of organic amino acids." One of the technicians explains to Dey and Rocket. Rocket looks at the pool of brownish green viscous sludge near the safety railing and nods in understanding.

"Well, since there's nothing to contaminate DNA-wise..." Dey sighs removing the hood of his disposable protective one-size. "Most of you can probably find better things to do for a moment, yes?" Dey reminds the CSI-crew who nod and leave after a bit of chatting amongst themselves, leaving just the people collecting laser imaging sketches and cataloguing to continue at the site.

"Any idea who they were? you know, seen anyone in these outfits tailing you or anything." Dey asks studying carefully what was left of the assassins once everything organic in their bodies and equipment had been dissolved into aforementioned disgusting brownish green gelatinous sludge.

"Nothing left to identify, I'm afraid. Not even a scent to track, except that disgusting organic sludge and I've never seen these guys in my life and trust me I'd know if I had. Like your forensic specialists noted, they've been stabbed -a lot... which is just about all we've got" Rocket comments dryly, lowering the mask covering his muzzle. "Or rather sworded, not merely stabbed. No weapon classified as a knife can make that kind of longitudinal cuts." He adds matter of fact like.

"Sworded. Is that even a word?" Dey comments studying one of the weapons the assassins had left behind.

"Yeah, it is now. Put it in your report as my expert opinion." Rocket winks and Dey suddenly had a feeling that Rocket knows more than he lets on, but Dey also knew that pushing Rocket would be pointless.

"That gun won't give ya anything either. You can track the serial but it's probably stolen right from the factory assembly line or storage and there's thousands of those weapons in use among the militaries of the Galaxy. I myself have three of almost the same make and model for glark sake." Rocket tells Dey who turns the gun at his hands to check the chamber and then puts it back down to from where he found it.

"I'm guessing their plan was to kill you with smart rounds, ditch their guns and blend in with the crows but someone else deterred and assassinated them instead." Dey ruminates.

"It's what I would write down on my report." Rocket nods in agreement as they head down from the roof in mutual understanding that in their part the trip had mostly been just a waste of time.

* * *

 

**Xarth cluster, Xarth binary system- planet 3, Beta-5 quadrant**

**in orbit above Capitolus city, northern polar region.**

 

Early on Rocket had held hopes of triumphant yet quiet return back to Xarth. Well their return was quiet but unfortunately it was also far from triumphant. In fact the general mood, Rocket had gathered via diplomatic channels from Xarth before departing Xandar aboard the Milano, was low enough that he had decided against using his diplomatic transponder and was flying to Xarth by the book and via standardized space lanes and then waiting for the clearance to land from ground control just like anyone else.

Two hours at the landing clearance queue was enough to make Rocket completely and utterly bored. He sighed audibly, looking over his shoulder at Xan sitting behind him at the passenger seat. "Remember the good old days when you could just fly into atmosphere, find a spot and land without no one really able to stop you Xan?"

"No, not really sir. I can't even fly a spaceship and I'm too young to remember those 'good old days' anyway." The young Xarthian replies with a slight apprehension.

"Ehh it 's all right kid. I'm just bored to death here and feeling like flappin' my gums." Rocket waves with his tiny clawed & hairy paw with opposable thumbs as Xan noted in passing. Xan wasn't really sure what to reply, remaining silent which the Grand Admiral seemed to take as an encouragement to further elaborate his colorful past.

"You see back when I was still a smuggler, -that was before I got into real trouble with the law and before I hooked up with Quill at Aladon Prime and later at the Kyln, anyway me and my crew used planets magnetic poles to naturally cloak our approach. Now listen up; every copper and customs agent worth his salt knows this too, so they always keep ships in patrol there -like that one over yonder- see that?" Rocket asks pointing at a blip at the radar console and then beyond the ships canopy, indicating at a barely visible fast moving light spot farther out there among the stars. "Yes, I think so." The young first ensign nods. "Okay good, now the real trick is to approach in a vector from which their ship can't see you and you then use its radar and view shadow to hide you until you can just zoom straight down to dayside parallel with the planet's orbit to avoid the flare you'd normally get from atmospheric friction until you reach cloud cover or manage to slow down enough, then it's smooth sailing to port of your choosing." Rocket continues in a more instructive manner. "But won't their surface and satellite approach radars spot us coming in or out?" Xan points out slightly emboldened by Rockets instructive manner.

"Good thinking kid, yes they normally would but the pole magnetism distracts all four major types of ship and planetary approach radars and warning systems, ladar-, gravimetric-, magnetometric- and radio wave based so they're reliant on visual observation at poles. Most space vessels larger than one or two man fighters really aren't designed with unobstructed view to all sides in mind, like a land vehicle would be and it's always been a good weakness to exploit in combat. It's mainly how we got the upper hand at Tänhauser nebula too, -while we still don't know how the V'saine radar-systems work exactly mind you, the little we did know even back then was that their systems were prone to similar problems as ours in dense nebulas and at the presence of solar flares. I still almost botched it just the same. Even with cloaking tech jury-rigged to work in that particular nebula." Rocket ruminates as much to himself as to his young audience.

Xan frowns in thought, still trying to piece together why his superior is telling him all this even though it is fascinating to hear and as such his completely unprepared for the next question by the Admiral. "'Excuse me, sir. Am I willing to learn what?" He asks perhaps a bit jejunely. "I asked you if you've ever wanted to learn to pilot a spaceship. Well, do you or do you not?" Grand admiral asks again, this time more tersely, and Xan is once again reminded that the Raccoonoid officer hated having to repeat himself. "I -ah yes, who doesn't? but it's just too expensive and time-consuming for me to even-" He starts but is halted by his commander. "That's not what I asked. do you want to learn or not boy? I ain't repeating the offer." Xan shuts what he was about to say and blinks trying to get his mouth to work a reply. _Boy have I ever-_... He thinks while replying with a vigorous yes to his most senior officer and even idol. Rocket practically beams at this. "Good lad. Now sit down over here on my chair and I'll be sitting on your lap. It's easier that way as we start going through this by starting with a crash course on instruments and controls and while we won't have the time for astral and hyperspace-navigation you also won't need it at the moment , 'cause... We ain't going farther than planetside in any case."

"Oh, shit, oh shi-it! Pull up the nose for frakk sakes, pull up!" Rocket yells scrambling back on the co-pilots chair from the floor between the seats where he had been laying unconscious for the last minute or so while the littoral-break was becoming closer and closer to reality until Xan, finally at the last moment, manages to get the ship righted and back under control with Rockets judicious if frantic help. Turning a sure crash landing into a merely flawed one on the spaceport's tarmac. The ship smashes on the ground with far less grace than it was meant to but since the landing gears were down and didn't fully buckle the ship stayed mostly intact thus still technically counting as a landing even if it was a really bad one.

"We're still alive." "I am Groot?" More than one voice piped up and Groot rushed up to the cockpit once it was clear that they had indeed landed safely and the ship wasn't about to explode or catch fire.

"Okay, for a first landing without any prior practice, you did good kid... Because otherwise I'd FRACKIN' KICK YERR ARSE FROM XARTH TO HALA! NOW GIT OUTTA MY SIGHT!" Rocket fumes hopping down from the co-pilots chair. Xan looked utterly mortified by this and was in too much of a shock from his superior's display of malcontent to be able to say or do much of anything but to obey and scramble out of the cockpit as fast as he could on his shaky legs.

"I am Groot." _Calm down Rocket, you're being dysregulative again_.

"The frakk do you care? I can dysregulate as much as I want! Arrrrrh- I can't even with you-" Rocket yells back gripping and yanking at the hairs in his forehead with his hands before smacking the pilot's chair with his fists over and over.

"I am Groot." _It wasn't his idea to give him a crash course in flying_. Groot reminds Rocket.

"You didn't see the kid thinking he was somekinda ace all of a sudden and doing a half-baked barrel roll and knock my lights out, when all he was supposed to do was to take us lower in a slow wide spiral arc." Rocket grumbles getting slowly back to grip with his emotions which meant that he could finally relent in punching the main pilot chair's padding with his fists.

"I am Groot" _It's still no reason to fly completely off the handle on the boy._ Rocket glared at Groot before conceding. "Fine, I'll talk to the kid but I ain't giving flying lessons again either."

"I am Groot." _I'm satisfied as long as you do apologize._

"Sir, if I may... any disciplinary actions should-" Captain Jcaan starts when he sees Rocket thundering down the steps into cargo hold/squad room. "Frakk that, I'm still the senior officer here and I can address the kid when and however I want to -in private as in public. Everybody out, clear the room." Rocket interjects icily. Jcaan blinks at the tone. "Sir, please he-" Rocket stops to actually stare at Jcaan. "Which part of my direct order- _Every Krutackin' bald body out, clear the frackin' room-_ did you not understand Captain?" Rocket interjects clearly starting to lose his cool. "Sorry, sir. It will be done right away." Jcaan replies with the detachment brought by a long experience. Their men, sensing the mood, quickly scramble out with their captain leaving Rocket  & Xan alone in the hold.

"Now what should we do with you... And you're supposed to stand in attention when an officer is on deck." Rocket barks at the young first ensign who quickly stiffens into one of the most perfect attention posts Rocket has seen in long while.

"Good, at ease soldier, now grab a chair and sit down -That's an order! I hate having to crane my neck all the time when talking to someone." Rocket orders and Xan quickly obeys. The boy had his faults but at least he was quick to follow orders despite this one recent tarnish to it. Rocket is silent for a moment regarding the boy with his pearl-like black red tinted eyes.

"Do you understand why we're having this conversation?" He begins testily.

"Because I accidentally injured a senior officer and nearly crashed the ship?" Xan asks thinking momentarily for a proper-sounding answer.

"No you d'ast idjit! -or well, partially but mainly because You failed to follow orders! You were supposed to make a _lowering spiral arch_ maneuver aka _standard closing-in from orbit_ _before landing_ maneuver like I showed you. Instead you did a half-arsed and totally botched barrel roll attempt that nearly got as all killed." Rocket points heatedly and Xan has the decency to blush in shame. He studies the First ensign before nodding to himself. "Now shut up and listen good boy..."

"No, I didn't discipline the boy with extra chores for disobeying me nor crush his balls or spirit. He'll I ain't even gonna add any further disciplinary notes to his record." Rocket grumbles to Jcaan's questioning look when the man silently confronts him at the second deck hallway some half an hour later.

"Very well, sir and thank you." Jcaan nods solemnly and Rocket has a feeling that though he may have chosen not to discipline the boy the regiment will; in their own time-honored fashion which was not really his problem.

"Well, we're back in Xarth now and once I'm back home you boys are free to your next assignment as usual though you may get called in to give witness during senate hearing." Rocket says folding his hands behind his back as they walk towards the exit. "I know and none of us are looking forward to it, sir." Jcaan responds somewhat lugubriously as their men form up one last time outside at the field, surrounding the pair and escorting Rocket to the edge of the landing zone where a motorcade had been arranged to take him and Groot back home to Capitolus city.

 

Back home, Groot's garden patio is still in surprisingly good order which shouldn't have come as a surprise since Rocket had spent almost three months in perfecting the automated systems which were designed to kick in if the garden was left unattended for more than a couple of days. Rocket himself took a nice long shower as a first thing. While he had nothing against the facilities in spaceships, way stations and ground stations in general, those were near always by necessity designed with efficiency first, this usually meant either rough ultrasonic waves with no water and/or unheated but not necessarily cold shower under a very limited timer to limit water usage or in the case of ground stations; elbow wrestling with all the other space jocks to get the chance to shower in the first place unless you were willing to pay the arm and a leg for a suite at the spaceport hotel.

Rocket closed the shower head and hummed softly while rubbing himself dry with a big fluffy white towel which he then wrapped around his waist before heading out to the patio to find Groot, leaving little wet raccoon foot prints on the floor tiles in his wake. Groot looked quite content in caressing his little trees and shrubs with affection while whispering his signature 'I am Groot' every now and then, though to Rocket it sounded more like baby talk. It had never quite seized to amaze him how the plants seemed to respond back to Groot with a barely noticeable rustle of leaves or gentle swaying of a branches.

"You are making them weird, man. Plants aren't supposed talk back when you water them." Rocket sniffed, probably for the hundredth time which didn't seem to bother Groot.

"I am Groot?" _Why not? It's not the holy privilege of fleshly beings to be capable of being thankful. Just because they lack many of the means to show it doesn't mean they're not able to feel it._ Groot lectures in his usual placid manner and perhaps because of the speech some of the plants seemed to actually start growing buds and while Rocket wasn't really sure just why some moldy gods in the morning the worlds had deemed that plants shouldn't speak -well apart from Groots. it was still apparent that at least Groot's plants clearly liked his presence though Rocket had also witnessed a time when the flora had actually disliked Groot. Now that had been the strangest of strange planets to be stranded in a crash.

"Groot, we need to talk." Rocket said in such a gravely voice that it made Groot to actually turn around in surprise. "I am Groot?" _What is it Rocket? I'm listening_. He asked concern evident in his voice and posture.

Rocket looked up at Groot knowing that his hardest job was in front of him -convincing Groot that acting as his successor candidate was in the best interests for the both of them.

"I've thought of this for awhile now. At first glance assigning you as my successor might seem like a colossal Frakk you to High senate... Yet as long as the support is there and assuming you'd be able to swing the votes with some well placed diplomacy aided by my use of a bit of clever filibustering, the potential gains could be quite notable for both you and me and Groot. I need you -I need someone I can throw at Torgon who is wholly on my side and someone he can't expect."

"I am Groot?" _Say what, have you completely lost your mind Rocket?_ Groot exclaims in shock, completely losing his usual eloquence.

"no, no, no -look, I'll explain it all, just hear me out okay. It'll all make sense trust me buddy, okay?" Rocket exclaims gesturing wildly with his hands like he was wanting to do when agitated.

"I am Groot" _Alright, I'm listening._ Groot agreed pensive enough to make Rocket cringe.

"This is going to be worth your time buddy, honest. Now listen up." He promised with a sigh starting to layout his plan for Groot to digest.

* * *

 

It's strange how granted you can take your friends at times. I was honestly surprised when The luminals openly threw their lot to back my plans and had Cynosyde the sixth noticed my surprise... She might have withdrawn it just as fast. I've learned enough about Xarth's politics by now that directly vetoing to both senates would do no good. They'd never publicly break the public consensus and it's an unwritten rule that each governmental branch would officially take care of their own business. Unofficially... All kinds of deals could be made, such as the one I'm working out with the head of inner security bureau in twenty, because as sure as my tail has stripes someone else besides Torgon, at high up in the political food chain, is involved in this mess and if anyone has the tools to find out who it is with the information I've gathered it's Abaan B'liit th head of the bureau. I've known him a long time and while we've never been quite friends we're both professionals.

I quickly scanned the area where we were supposed to meet with my gaze and nod in satisfaction to B'liit already sitting at a table booth away from the scenic windows. He had secured the cafe pretty much air tight if the number of his agents among the clientèle was of any indication. At least someone wasn't taking any risks I note, walking past at least twelve of them on my way to his table.

"So Rocket, I hear you have something for me and in exchange I tell you how things lay and what's going on behind the closed doors?" B'lit begins with that annoyingly squeaky voice of his as I sit opposite him at the table.

"Well, you've certainly done your best to cover all bases, I see." I note sarcastically and he frowns slightly at my bit of jab. "Cover, I am not sure of your meaning?"

"Well you've put only those of your people, among the patrons, whom I've met very vaguely or practically never. Clever but not good enough when I'm involved. So why all the cloak & dagger shit?"

"After what you offered as an appetizer... I find it hard to believe who to trust right now and that includes you Grand Admiral." B'liit comments nonchalantly. I merely nod understanding his view. I most certainly have the capability to orchestrate an elaborate coup d'état like this if I'd really wanted it, not that he has the need to know his hunch is being close to mark. "As long as your trustees don't include chancellor Torgon I don't particularly mind." I reply deciding to keep close to honesty while I drop the name in casual manner to gauge his reactions.

"So what's for the main course?" he asks ignoring my intentional teaser about Torgon despite sounding almost eager to hear more. Which tells me that he likely suspected it already.

"Chew on this puppy for starters. Go ahead, open it but don't touch what's inside." I note with a grin and push the small, lidded metal strongbox forward across the table. He looks at the box with professional wariness, examining it slowly while trying to read my expressions at the same time. "It's Inhuman in origin isn't it. Where'd you get this?" He finally asks looking at the etched logo on the lid and returns a questioning gaze to me after creaking the box open just enough to see the purple crystal rods nested inside.

"From one of his flunkies. The confession was gained through applied coercion so it's not usable as such." I admit with a slight regret in my voice.

"I think I can overlook that. So what's your plan?" He acquiesced dryly.

"Look the other way as I deal with Torgon. His mine but you can keep everyone else that gets in the net when I pull it taunt, though first I'm gonna frakk his plan of getting rid of me." I explain with a toothy almost oblatrate grin at the end and reach to regather the box.

"I've no doubt, I've never liked him much as a matter of fact and I am sure to enjoy this." B'liit nods crossing his fingers to a tent in front of him at the table and looks at me in the eyes. "There's just these few more things I am going to require." B'liit replies when I'm about to leave. I froze for a moment before sitting back down, almost dreading what else he might want in return. "Alright, let's hear them." I sigh readying mentally.

"First, you're going to sign here 'dedicated for my Dora'. -she's my niece and secondly, eat the damn pie. My cousin, who runs this joint, would be most upset if you didn't even touch it." B'liit comments pointing with a nod at the slice of zunk pie and coffee while pushing a tiny autograph collecting leaflet forward. I hadn't even noticed at being served while we were talking but the pie did smell delicious and the coffee was of the 'real deal' earth-variety and not the more common inferior Xandarian variant.

* * *

 

 


	23. The Left paw path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, its now done and just perfectly for the fanworks day, as originally planned.
> 
> Special thanks for everyone whose read and commented this work. It wouldn't have been finished without your support & encouragement.

## The last chapter  
Left paw path  
Ch 22

 

 

**Xarth cluster, Xarth binary system- planet 3, Beta-5 quadrant – Luminal super city, northern polar region.**

**The following day**

**at the Senate of Xarth**

 

As far as metropolitan cities went Capitolus could easily hold more than 3 million inhabitants and yet it was nothing but a 'garden borough'. One of the smallest of the confluent cities which formed Luminal -The Great cosmopolis of easily over a billion souls. The ring city spanned the length of the entire northern hemisphere continent, housing the district for the seat of government at its heart. The government district in itself being larger than many a so called megacities, spanning over nine hundred square miles horizontally and three miles vertically with more than twenty raised drive and walkways criss-crossing the space between buildings & sky-needles, giving a spider web like quality to the permanently dust hazed horizon -even over the sea as much of the district had been raised on rock-fuse pylons, driven deep into the seafloor in aeons past in order to allow for more growth.

"Maker's mercy we're no longer forced into wholesaling Zunk down at the Dive-town for a living... You ever miss those days Groot?" Rocket asks absently from Groot who was sitting opposite him at the secured but still public monorail carriage's 1-class cabin*, while occasionally glancing the view from the large round window.

"I am Gr-oot. Groot?" _No, not really Rocket. Too much hustle and bustle. I like it quiet and steady."_ Groot nods shifting lightly at the passenger sofa _. "Why do you ask_?"

"Nothing important really but honestly, the biggest downside of having a memory like mine is that time never gilds them ya know... for example, I still remember the name of that Badoon war captain and every other face I shot in that bar -Leery's, back in those days. We just passed by it- by the by, or what's left of it anyway. It was closed down some twenty years ago when they started gentrifying Dive-town in earnest." Rocket muses absently and rubs his chin in thought. Groot regards his friend silently for awhile. Rocket really did look quite militarily in his grey combat armor, especially now when it had been cleaned and given a bit of much needed TLC though he doubted it would particularly impress or sway the bureaucrats and career politicians, whom they were going to meet in an hour or so, to be more favorable.

"Maker's mercy we're no longer forced into wholesaling Zunk down at the Dive-town for a living... You ever miss those days Groot?" Rocket asks absently from Groot who was sitting opposite him at the secured but still public monorail carriage's 1-class cabin*, while occasionally glancing the view from the large round window.

"I am Gr-oot. Groot?" _No, not really Rocket. Too much hustle and bustle. I like it quiet and steady."_ Groot nods shifting lightly at the passenger sofa _. "Why do you ask_?"

"Nothing important really but honestly, the biggest downside of having a memory like mine is that time never gilds them ya know... for example, I still remember the name of that Badoon war captain and every other face I shot in that bar -Leery's, back in those days. We just passed by it- by the by, or what's left of it anyway. It was closed down some twenty years ago when they started gentrifying Dive-town in earnest." Rocket muses absently and rubs his chin in thought. Groot regards his friend silently for awhile. Rocket really did look quite militarily in his grey combat armor, especially now when it had been cleaned and given a bit of much needed TLC though he doubted it would particularly impress or sway the bureaucrats and career politicians, whom they were going to meet in an hour or so, to be more favorable.

* * *

Rocket said nothing when he exited the sleek black monorail at the platform near the Okenye **- The senate building plaza, with Groot and their mandatory escort - a bunch of soldiers Rocket didn't know and frankly didn't care that much to know beyond their names. They were there only for the day to replace their usual contingent led by Captain Jcaan to give that group some much needed R&R. While an armed escort drew some eyes among the crowds it wasn't all that unusual sight to see around Okenye plaza and most people lost their interest after initial notice allowing Rocket and his entourage to pass the crowds and step into the public street elevator without interruptions. The part of the building they needed to access was at around 16th street level and Rocket was as disinterested as his escort to use the building's own ever crowded inner transportation system of stairs and lifts when they could simply take one of the street level lifts and walk right in where they wanted to be.

* * *

Rocket glared menacingly at the three officials to no avail, standing by the set of high double doors as rigid and unmoving as the Cerberus himself at the gates of Hades.

"Ohh- Grrrr- Fine! Take them but if there's even a teeny-weenie blemish on them..." Rocket most assuredly growls under his breath before handing over his long barreled Kree-made pistols to one of the three guards, who places them on a sealed box proffered by another official in that very Xarthian-like silent request manner they were known for. Rocket decided to keep the plasma knife in his person since they weren't asking for it and the weapon & metal detectors he'd need to walk through were meaningless since he was by all purposes a living weapon filled with polymer, silicon and exotic metals anyway. They still scanned him with hand devices though, it was their job even if it was for no purpose and only revealed that he was a cyborg. "We've done this for twenty flarking years." Rocket grumbles while the guards scanned Groot before letting them through the doors to enter the Okenye auditorium hall. "It's our job." One of them replies in completely nonplussed manner. They had done the same exchange with Rocket about 'no weapons inside the Okenye' enough times over the years by now to just shrug it off. It seemed to them that one of the furry alien's fixations was to keep bringing them and then bitching when they were temporarily confiscated.

* * *

"Okay, we stick to the plan. Remember, if I falter you keep on talking and when you're running out of steam I'll pick up. Tag-team tactics, yeah?" Rocket whispers to Groot while waiting for the team of official sound technicians to finish with setting up things for Groot so he could address the Senate with his own words despite his near untranslatable language. Rocket could have done it much faster just by himself but proper forms would have to be followed here. So he waited sitting idly on Groot's shoulder, tiny clawed paws behind his back, itching to get to work on the cables, microphones, displays and keyboards being hooked and set up just a few feet away.

"I am Groot" _I know, keep talking until they run out of time to address the other remaining candidates properly._ Groot nods quietly to Rocket's reminder, scanning the senators gathering to their designated seats. It seemed that the in-person turnout would be quite high today which meant that a lot them found this important and that was probably a plus for him and Rocket. "Yeah, I saw that -even that fucker nut Torgon is attending in person. Can't make the fratack disappointed now can we?" Rocket replies to Groot's observations with a wry but toothy grin which in the past had usually meant that Rocket had just found a new way to bring pain over his enemies.

* * *

Torgon admitted to himself that he had really disliked doing business with Knife. The former King of Spartax was… not a man of integrity but he had known perfectly how dirty politics were played and would have been a wonderful asset & scapegoat if things hadn't gone south, yet he was almost sure they might still be salvaged despite having all that meticulous planning now wasted with the return of Rocket. He might not have been able to keep the leash as tight as he’d liked on his _‘coon hound_ but then again the best hounds were the ones able to hunt independently and Knife had a lot of grudges to fuel his hunt. All he had needed to do was to provide his clandestine support for Knife and he had supposedly handled the rest. What's the Galaxy coming to when you couldn't trust even a good old greed and vengeance to drive a man into success?

These and more went through his mind as he listened the former Grand admiral advocating in behalf of his candidate -the tree-like alien called Groot, -a glarking tree! A remarkably eloquent tree when it actually spoke and was translated via holo-displays systems normally reserved for the rare deaf or mute people joining the senate attendance but still just a dumb tree and he wouldn't give a fig if it really was the prince in waiting for the throne of some backwater planet or not. Not even a Cotati would have made him accept a -a flarking, plant for the office, even that stripe-tailed brown-grey fuzz ball had been more tolerable but only just.

Torgon suppressed a yawn rubbing his face vigorously in an attempt to spell away his boredom. How long had they been at this hearing? Hours maybe, yet the former admiral and his literally wooden candidate kept on talking and addressing issues of military the tree promised it was going to advocate and answering questions their speech aroused. He felt his head thump slightly on the desk. That small jolt was enough to wake him up with a small yawn. Good grief! At least those two were no longer filibustering or wait a minute -had there been a voting already? He hadn't even noticed his own candidate at the podium yet. A quick scan on the desk display noted him that he and about full third of the Senators present were signed as _not present during the voting,_ while the bare third was in advocacy of Groot, one fifth was postponing, yet to vote yes or no, probably hoping to see the remainder of the candidates and the rest were given to various personal favorites in advance. It didn't really matter. A majority by a third was enough to make it official.

* * *

"Maker's mercy" It's finally over. I don't want to hold a speech like this ever never again." Rocket sighs in hoary voice, sagging slightly on his haunches behind the podium curtain once the vote results were in.

I am Groot" _Indeed this was likely the worst speech I've ever held and not just because of the length. All that tautology and circle logic was just jarring._ Groot admits picking Rocket gently from the floor and placed him to ride on his shoulders. Long speeches had no real physical effect on Groots but they could feel mental strain as much as the next intelligent life form.

"Not yet Groot. I still have things to do here or rather at Torgon's office. His in the spot where I wanted him and now... It's time to pay a visit and see what I can shake out." Rocket protests when Groot picks him up and turns to head back home for the evening.

"I am Groot?" _You sure it can't wait until tomorrow?_

"Nope, I'm sure. By tomorrow his figured out what to say to seem squeaky clean or has simply bolted. Collect my guns and wait for me to get back home. I can manage this on my own, his a bureaucrat not a trained killer." Rocket sighs hopping down from his perch at Groot's shoulder.

* * *

In Rocket's opinion it wasn't so much a trap than wringing out an unwitting testimony that he had had in mind all along and he already had a plan of how to get it when he exited the elevator and walked the short distance from the hallway lobby to the entry for Torgon's rather opulent office space -which actually said almost nothing about the man's true character as pretty much all Senators had one. The bigger the office the higher your position. Even he had a one some six stories below though he hadn't really used his in ages except when asked to be seen at the office by his personal staff. As usual there was a group of guards/ushers on this floor as well but Rocket didn't really pay much mind to them as he passed their station to walk in to Torgon's office pretty much unannounced, his feet making barely a sound at all on the office's soft full carpet floors despite the metallic boots he was wearing.

* * *

"I told you I'm not to be disturbed. - You?" Torgon snaps angrily without looking up from his work when he hears the door open and looks up when there's no reply.

"Yes, It's me." Rocket responds rather cheekily when Torgon reckons his presence.

"What do you want Rocket, can't you see I'm busy?" Torgon retorts with a great bit of glare.

"I know your ploy and that you set Knife free." Rocket says bluntly and seats himself uninvited on the chair opposite Torgon sitting behind his writing desk. Torgon's glare only intensifies if possible.

"I know nothing." He declares almost by route.

"Sure you do. Operation Amber moon... It's got your naa-me all over it aa-nd I've got a witness for ya." Rocket replies sounding most coy when saying it. Torgon's eyes narrow as he leans backwards in his chair to regard Rocket with unveiled distaste.

"Supposedly this -this star witness of yours exists but what makes you think I'd allow myself to be played by someone like Knife in the first place?" Torgon now nearly sneers.

“And it never occurred to you Torgon? Occurred that you might be the one being played here? Knife is well known for that. I thought you'd be smarter than this.” Rocket sighs sounding almost disappointed.

“Of course it did you arrogant varmint, it was the whole point of operation Amber moon. I’ll let them think I’m their benefactorer while I’m actually the one benefitting. I’d have been a hero you know, for foiling the enemy at the crucial point.” Torgon considers Rocket coldly while now leaning slightly forward from behind his desk.

“You really have no idea who you’re dealing with here, do you Torgon? I’ve lived and fought through the Annihilation waves, final years of Kree-Xandar wars, the builder rampage, the Vortex crisis, last three wars between Kree & Skrull, V’saine incursions, Stopped three of Thanos’ attempts to conquer this universe and faced the hordes of Cancerverse after the war of Kings just to name a few… When I'm telling you that you’re a fool who should have taken heed, it’s because I’m right. I didn’t do that Galaxy guarding stint for bragging rights; I did it because the Galaxy can’t be trusted to take care of itself.” Rocket reprimands.

“Oh, spare me you sanctimonious weasel. Badoon, Skrulls and S.t.a.r.k.'s- aren’t a real threat; you just made it all up to for the speech to filibuster that tree of yours to inherit your position just to frakk with me…” Torgon said dismissively.

“Oh they’re a very real threat. I’m almost sorry that you won’t be around to see it for yourself. In fact we won’t be seeing for the next two hundred cycles once I’ve presented all my evidence to senate disciplinary hearing. They're particularly going love that stuff about you, Lysis and the plans to detonate a Terrigen bomb.“

“I see…” Torgon frowns, suddenly reaching for a call button under the table surface. Rocket frowns at the move and spins his chair around when the door opens and two burly Xarthians, normally manning the desk at the floor lobby, enter. "Mister Rocket here is going to have a sudden accident... Use your imagination but make it plausible." Torgon orders the guards now approaching Rocket with an air of menace. Rocket almost passively watches them approach him in unhurried manner it wasn't looking like he could run anywhere. They hadn't drawn their weapons from their hip holster yet, likely thinking that a three foot nothing furry critter wasn't much of a threat without his guns or personal houseplant/muscle with him.

"Your men?" Rocket asks cocking his head slightly as if contemplating something.

"But of course. Handy fellows for things like this." Torgon shrugs smugly.

"Well neither of them will be around to see your downfall then." Rocket replies and lets out an oblatrated grunt when the foremost of the duo of guards attempts to grab him up from the chair by reaching for the back of the combat armor's neck plate. Rocket's retaliation is near instant. He reaches out at the approaching hand, grabbing the extended fingers into his tiny clawed hands and twists violently, wresting the thumb and the man's own momentum bends his wrist into a position that made it clear Rocket could break it if he so desired with a minimal effort and he did, -the wrist dislocates with a jarring crunch and the man drops to his knees on the floor in front of the office chair, but Rocket was nowhere done with the man yet and proceeded to completely destroy the man's arm by breaking the ulna against his armored knee like a piece of stick, bending the forearm into such an angle that it's break came more than apparent via a bulge through the cloth fabric of the sleeve and leaving the forearm into its new completely unnatural angle, as if the man's high pitched wail of agony and the fount of blood gushing out from the sleeve weren't enough of an indication. The man drops on the floor like a sack of coals when Rocket releases him to cradle his destroyed arm in a stuttering heap.

Rocket releasing the arm, is already jumping and kicking the chair on the remaining guard's legs to make him trip, and when the man toppled forward, he mercilessly brought his metal boot's heel down on the guards exposed neck vertebrae with a swift side-kick, dislocating it with a sickening crunch rending the hapless guard paralyzed quite possibly for life.

Torgon's eyes nearly bulged out from his head at the display of brutality in front of him. He reached for the gun at the open table drawer but Rocket was faster. Torgon had barely even grasped the gun hilt when he’d already taken a plasma knife to his chest from Rocket. He stared mutely at the black smoking knife sticking at his chest before slowly toppling sideways from his chair, gun still held in his hand.

“Like I said you won’t be around…” Rocket frowns, he had aimed on the gun hand but fine, fate and instincts, both natural and hardwired ones; had decided to make his aim veer a bit just then…

Torgon stared hazily at the raccoonoid now circling the table to kneel down beside his head at the floor.

“I know you’re aware that I’m a cyborg –who isn’t these days, it’s no secret. Now, most people, like those two goons on the floor, don’t think much of it because I look kinda fluffy and cute and mostly harmless because I'm small and my modifications aren’t very visible but they also forget that my body strength is a lot higher and reflexes even more so than would normally be possible for a raccoonoid from Procyon-6. Also recordings from my cochlear and retinal implants are admissible at court as evidence… And believe me... when I tell you that when I was… Made -The state of the art was installed into me and those mods; just a few months ago I'd have admitted that they're no longer quite the bleeding edge… But I've had them upgraded since then.” Rocket grimaced when saying this but also couldn’t help but sneer and swank triumphantly and tap at his temples with his right index finger before kicking dying Torgon’s gun away and calling the 'real' security. His mood darkened when he recalled how he had yet another seemingly hopeless war to win, thanks in no part going to this bozo. Just like old times, man old times sucked big time… And the future wasn't shaping up to be much better.

Flarkity, flarkin' flark!

 

## Epilogue

 

**Vigård plains**

**Misty morning at the edge of time**

 

He surveyed the open almost featureless battlefield in front of him as best as he may from his high vantage point atop a boulder jutting above the grasses, growing taller than he was even when standing on his toes. It had rained at the morning and the grass was still wet as the rising sun was slowly dispersing the night mist. Their troops were gathering at the crest of a long winding ridge as their enemy formed up at the opposite ridge over yonder. His tactical sense told him that that this would be it -the final battle. It also told him that he and great many others were likely to die in this battle unless he could find more advantageous positions. He purposefully ignored that line of thought. Though his victories by now were too numerous count, they mattered little here - there was no turning back, no clever moves, no place left but here at the plains of Vigård.

There weren't any heavy vehicles, huge guns, flying crafts, humongous mechas, personal weapons or even clothes on the army at their side of the ridges flanking the broad grassy valley. The quantum-based technology had made them almost completely useless and obsolete. All they needed in this time and age was the personal quantum force field -both a weapon and an armor stronger than any steel and while their enemy appeared vastly more numerous it wasn't quite as advanced, sporting all kinds of sophisticated but woefully outdated military technology in comparison to theirs. In fact the gathered battlefield host as a whole looked awfully lot like a lovechild of a nudist convention and a football riot.

The fair wind was picking up speed and starting to howl, tattering the remaining tendrils of mist and making the wet grass undulate and sparkle like the waves on a windy sea. Rocket dared a glance at Groot towering over him, his shadow stretching across the vale basking in the rising morning sun, almost blocking Rocket's view of the sky. The monarch of Taluhnia and the ruler of all he shades looks afar then nods solemnly and Rocket climbs up along his huge leg and all the way up his side to reach the massive shoulders some twelve feet from the ground. It was time.

And the river ran red from the valley of grass between the two ridges.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

> *Most of the Luminal's daily inner city passenger traffic was done via mag-lev monorails. Despite this and many other green tech-programs & solutions to combat pollution, the sheer number of inhabitants was enough to cause notable pollution especially at traffic hours.
> 
> **the original Okenye was the residence of the government head for the then leading nation of Xarth. When Xarth was later unified under one planetary rule the old building was first expanded again and again until it became apparent that it was just too small for a planetary parliament and new ones had to be built. At which point it was simply easier to keep the site of the original one as a public memorial square and to erect the new building complex to surround it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope people reading this fanfic will enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.  
> I'll probably add chapters as I get them properly edited and fixed from typos, errors and plot holes.
> 
> In-case someone didn't notice from tags, this is an AU-fic with bits and bobs from Comics & movies mixed together.  
> While I strive to keep close to Marvel canon(s) I've made changes as I've seen fit to make a cohesive story.
> 
> Speaking of cohesive... why doesn't the text editor allow me to put the picture in centre of the page but right & left corner are okay?
> 
> And no the pic isn't mine, its there for fanfic use, I'll get rid of if it bothers the original artist or the right holders.


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